Pride Lands: Generations
by nievelion
Summary: The night before that fateful day in the gorge, Mufasa tells Simba the story of the first Lion King, and his son. The Circle of Life is shown not only to repeat itself, but to be woven with more complexity than it first appeared.
1. Chapter 1: Sulubu

(A/N: Simba, Mufasa, and any other characters from the movie which appear are of course the property of Walt Disney Studios. The characters of Makedde, Asumini, and Busara are the property of John Burkitt and David Morris, the authors of "Chronicles of the Pride Lands". All others which appear are my own invention.)

* * *

**Prologue**

Still breathing hard from their tussle in the grass, Simba sprawled on his back across his father's head, staring up at the scintillating African sky, where each star shone like the look of mischief in Nala's eyes. Soon, however, he began to shiver. The air was cooling rapidly, freezing the dew on the blades of grass.

Sliding down from Mufasa's head, Simba burrowed into the thick layers of his father's mane and sighed contentedly. He was almost asleep when he thought of a question he'd meant to ask earlier.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

Simba peered up into his father's gentle yellow eyes. "You said the great kings of the past are up there, right?"

"Yes, son."

"Well...who were they?"

Mufasa raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, surprised. "You mean you'd stay awake to hear a story? Don't you have a big day planned tomorrow?"

Simba smirked. "Yeah, you bet I do! I—" He caught himself as Mufasa began to laugh whole-heartedly.

"I'm sorry I teased you, son." Mufasa was still chuckling.

"No you're not," Simba muttered, not really meaning it. Then he sighed.

"But I really do want to hear it, Dad!"

Mufasa eyed him appraisingly. "You do. I can see it. Well, I suppose you're old enough..."

"Course I am!" Simba stood up proudly and puffed out his chest.

Mufasa rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant. The stories that I would tell you aren't really for a cub's ears."

"Are they exciting?" Simba demanded.

"Some are. But others are sad, and they all concern death in one way or another. The Circle of Life is not always gentle."

The cub shook his head. "Dad, I can handle it!"

Mufasa sighed. "All right, but don't say I didn't warn you. And remember: whatever happens in this story, you must always believe the Circle of Life will continue to turn. Good will follow evil, hope will follow despair. It is like a rainstorm: shadows and gloom may sweep across the land, but there is always sunshine on the other side. And you must never avoid the storms the Circle brings, for this will only lengthen your journey."

Simba frowned, confused.

"Listen to the story, Simba, and you will understand," Mufasa explained gently.

Excited, Simba settled down into his father's mane once more. The air was colder still, and he could see their breath fogging, but Mufasa's chest was warm and strong, and Simba could feel his steady, reassuring heartbeat. In the distance, he saw a dark silhouette sail across the moon, a bird of some sort. Then the cry of a heron cut through the silence.

"Once, many moons ago, the Pride Lands were not safe, and the lions who lived here did not have Pride Rock for shelter. The land had been seized by the first Lion King, Mfalme, from a cruel lion named Giza who abused the land and all that lived on it. In a fair fight he defeated Giza and turned him out. The grateful lionesses of the pride made Mfalme their king, and he named the pride 'Kiburi'. But the story really begins with the birth of his son, Dhahabu..."

* * *

**Dhahabu's Tale**—**Chapter 1: Sulubu **

It was a crisp morning like many others in Africa when a young lion cub emerged from the long grass where the lionesses lay asleep to perch on a rock overlooking the river valley. He had a coat of burnished gold, perfectly matching the hue of the blossoms of the acacia tree that shaded the rock. Gray eyes darted across the landscape, eager to miss nothing in the wide world around him. A curl of mane overhung his brows, lending him a rather roguish look.

"Hey, Dhahabu! Wait up!"

The cub turned to watch his sister Taraji scramble up the grassy slope toward the rock. "What took you so long, tortoise?" He grinned at her, ignoring the scowl she returned.

"I wonder," she said sarcastically. "Maybe because you shoved me in that stream back there!" Taraji's cinnamon fur hung plastered to her sides.

Dhahabu laughed. "How else was I gonna beat you to the rock?"

Taraji glared at him, her icy-blue gaze piercing his confidence. "You got that right," she muttered. Then, without warning, she shook violently, spraying her brother with shimmering wetness.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dhahabu stared at her morosely. "You didn't have to do that," he whined.

Taraji smiled sweetly. "Sure I did. Payback's always fair."

Dhahabu frowned. "I'm sorry, sis. I didn't mean to upset you. I was just trying to have fun!"

"You're always trying to have fun—and I'm the one who always pays for it." His sister looked at him sternly. But then the corner of her mouth twitched, and her resolve broke. Laughing, she pounced on Dhahabu and sent him flying to the ground.

As they rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, Taraji giggled. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Race me to the river, that's what!" Dhahabu rose and loped toward the south, but before he could reach the next hill, a dark brown blur flew out of the branches of the acacia tree and pinned him to the ground.

"Hey!" He struggled. "Sulubu! Lemme up!"

The cocoa-colored cub perched proudly on Dhahabu's chest smirked.

"Nope! Not until ya admit I'm the best stalker."

Dhahabu groaned. "All right, all right! You win. You're the best!"

As Sulubu backed off, Taraji walked up with a disinterested air. She peered down at her brother. "Oh, look! It's the Lying King!"

Sulubu laughed, while Dhahabu swiped playfully at his sister. "What's all this noise?" The tired-sounding voice was that of a lioness approaching through the grass. In moments she emerged, a golden lioness like Dhahabu. "Are you three up already?"

"Yes, Mom," Taraji replied with a gentle shove at her brother. "Thanks to Dhahabu!"

Malkia, Queen of the Kiburi Pride, smiled. "My little adventurer. And where did you think you were going?"

Dhahabu told the truth. "The river first, but after that, who cares?"

Malkia raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? I think I might just have to come along, at least to the river."

"But, Mooooom!" the three cubs chorused.

"Come on! You know it's not safe out there. Any number of animals could kill you. Our territory isn't assured."

"But we're all big and strong!" Dhahabu said proudly.

"And overconfident." Malkia smiled. "Listen to me—please? You know I worry about you."

Dhahabu sighed and approached his mother. "All right. I know it's for our own good." He mouthed the words with exaggerated care, having memorized them long before. "But only if we get to go off by ourselves after we reach the river."

"We'll see."

One after another the three cubs rubbed on their mother's sides. Then the four lions walked in a close group down the hillside toward the river sparkling in the morning sun.

* * *

Malkia and her three cubs approached the river slowly, cautiously. Dhahabu fidgeted impatiently, eager to explore, but his mother had her head raised, nostrils lifted to the wind.

"All right, kids." Malkia sighed and smiled. "No sign of hyenas."

"Finally!" Dhahabu burst out. With a small roar he leaped onto Sulubu and carried him to the ground. The two rolled down the hill, flattening a path in the tall savanna grass, until they tumbled into the flowing water.

Taraji glanced at her mother and rolled her eyes. "Males!"

"Who do you think you're fooling?" Malkia asked, smiling slyly. "You would have done the same thing if your brother hadn't beaten you to it."

The lioness cub shook her head, then grinned. "You're right, Mom. And now's the time to prove it..."

She crouched down in the grass, disappearing from sight, and began a slow, steady descent toward the river.

Spluttering, Sulubu broke the surface and flailed for a few seconds before he calmed down enough to swim for shore. Behind him Dhahabu paddled nonchalantly, as if he had planned the fall into the river well in advance.

As Sulubu climbed to dry land, Dhahabu waded through the shallows. "So now who's the better stalker?" He smirked.

Sulubu curled his lip. "What are you talking about? You didn't stalk me—you caught me off guard, that's all." He raised his brown eyes to his forehead, where the water had flattened the black tuft of his mane into a pitiful dark stain on his fur.

Dhahabu snorted. "A likely story."

His brother turned on him. "You're getting a little full of yourself, you—"

Without warning a reddish streak flew out of the grass behind Sulubu and pinned him to the dirt. "Not again..." he moaned.

"Sorry, bro," Taraji apologized, climbing off. "I thought you were Dhahabu." She turned and eyed her other brother suggestively.

"Nuh-uh!" The golden cub backpedaled and tripped over a rock, landing flat on his back. Both Taraji and Sulubu burst out laughing.

"Hey!" Dhahabu sat up. "Quit making fun of me!"

"We're not!" Sulubu gasped, still laughing. "It's just the look on your face when she said—and then you—and you fell on your—" His voice disappeared in a burst of giggles.

"That's it. Lay it on me!" Dhahabu got to his feet and turned, walking to the edge of the grass. He looked back. "See if I care. You must think I don't, the way you're acting!"

As Dhahabu disappeared into the grass, the laughter of the other two cubs faded into an embarrassed silence. Sulubu lowered his head and Taraji gazed hopefully at the grass, but their brother did not reappear. "I think we went a little too far," she murmured.

Stalking angrily through the grass, Dhahabu began muttering to himself. "Why do they always have to make fun of me? I'm the future king, aren't I?" He paused, in motion as well as in words.

Then, although no one could see him, he blushed. "That's why they tease me. It's my stupid pride. Every time they do something, I have to do it better! I have to be the first to the rock, I have to be the best pouncer and the best stalker..." He sighed. "How do they put up with me?"

A rustle in the nearby grass jerked his attention to his surroundings. Something was coming his way... Stealthily he crouched down and began to slip through the grass on silent feet, not even disturbing one blade. He would prove he was worthy of the throne, and then he wouldn't need to be so pushy with his siblings. He'd catch whatever this was and show them all! Closer and closer he drew, and as the snorts and rustling grew louder, he pressed himself further down. The hair rose along his spine, he bared his teeth in a silent snarl, his muscles tensed...

"RRRRR!" It wasn't very impressive, but as he leaped out of hiding, jaws open to bite into his prey, his roar seemed to frighten the animal—although as soon as Dhahabu saw it he had no idea why it would be scared. Falling slackly to the ground, he stared at the gray, wrinkled bulk rising at least two feet above his head, the dangling trunk, and the miniature pointed tusks.

"AAAAAHHHH!" he screamed, but the baby elephant was already screaming, its trumpet-like call drowning him out. To Dhahabu's great surprise the elephant cowered down and closed its eyes.

"P-p-please don't eat me!" he cried in a slightly shrill voice.

"_Eat _you?" Dhahabu couldn't believe his ears. Scrambling to his feet, he peered incredulously into the elephant's face. "I can't even _reach_ you!"

Slowly the baby elephant stopped trembling and opened his eyes. "You're right! You can't!" He breathed a sigh of relief and rose to his full height again. Then he cocked his head to the side. "You sure looked a lot bigger a minute ago!"

Dhahabu lowered his head and dug at the ground with one paw. "Uh, about that...sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you were prey."

"Prey?" The elephant backed up a step. "But I thought you said..."

_Great_, Dhahabu thought. _An elephant who's scared of his own shadow_. "Hey, I said I'm not gonna eat you—I can't."

"I know," the elephant said uncertainly, as if he knew no such thing. "It's just that—Dad warned me about predators. He told me that you lions like to catch and eat baby elephants, and you don't care about the Circle of Life." His voice gained a defiant edge. "He said that if you could, you wouldn't leave any baby elephants for the future, or you'd just let the hyenas catch us all. He told me to call him if I ran into any trouble..."

The elephant froze. "But you're not gonna eat me? I'm not in trouble?"

"No." Dhahabu didn't like the look on his face. "Why?"

The elephant slowly curled his trunk up before his face and eyed it meaningfully. "When you leaped at me, I..."

A loud booming echoed across the savanna, coming rapidly nearer. It was soon followed by a deafening blast of sound from an elephant's trunk. "Tembo!" The deep voice raised the hairs on the back of Dhahabu's neck. "Tembo, where are you?" Unwilling to look but knowing he had to, the lion cub gazed in the direction of the sounds. Grass was flattening rapidly, and the ground shook so violently that Dhahabu stumbled and fell. Then a huge silhouette blocked out the sun and filled the little glade with shadow.

Cringing, he peered up at the massive ears flapping angrily, sending up scores of flies; the towering legs, the broad chest; the long, curving, yellowish tusks sharp enough to spear his body as easily as Dhahabu would stab a kigelia fruit with one claw...

The bull elephant glared at him with fury in his eyes. "What have you done to my son, lion cub?" His pronunciation of the word "lion" was one of arrogant disgust.

Dhahabu gulped.

"Uh-oh..." Tembo whispered.

* * *

As Dhahabu cowered before the bull elephant's angry visage, he heard a loud rustling in the grass around him. Turning, he spied two paths forming in the savanna, one from the east, the other from the north.

Looking back at the elephant, he managed a cocky grin and stood up straight. "You're—" His voice came out in a squeak. Quickly he cleared his throat and tried to make his voice more deep and commanding, like his father's. "You're in trouble now!"

The elephant frowned, but at that moment Malkia burst into the glade, closely followed by Taraji and Sulubu. "Dhahabu! What's the matter, son?" She noticed Tembo, then his father. "Oh, it's you..." Slowly the queen crouched down and growled softly, her teeth clenched furiously.

And then Mfalme, the Lion King, emerged from the tall grass.

The bull elephant blew a nasty-sounding note from his trunk and turned to face the lion, his enormous feet taking him close enough that he towered over Mfalme. "So now the 'Lion King' is here! I suppose that cringing ball of fur over there is yours, hmm?" His rumbling voice dripped with contempt.

Mfalme was not impressed by the elephant's stature. Standing proud and implacable, his massive frame dwarfing even Tembo, each muscle taut beneath thick, mahogany fur, he stared at the insulting elephant. His green eyes locked on the other's black ones, their piercing gaze emerging from behind two locks of mane, both a shocking red, that extended back to form a matching pair of stripes in his brown mane.

"Damu..." the Lion King snarled at last.

"Mfalme." The elephant looked off over the lion's head, as if the king were an annoying fly buzzing around his head that he wished he could ignore.

"Yes, Dhahabu is my son, and your future king!" Mfalme snapped.

"I see no king here—not him, and not you!" Damu said, calmly superior. "The sons of Giza are the proper heirs to the pride—"

The Lion King roared deafeningly. Tembo ducked down in the grass and hid his face, while Dhahabu, Sulubu, and Taraji grinned.

When the sound had died away, Mfalme paced over to stand before the four young animals. "Giza was a tyrant and a killer. He hunted without shame, he abused the land, he appeased his cruel desires whether his lionesses agreed to it or not!"

"That is his own business. All that concerns me is that, under his rule, we elephants always had enough to eat." Damu nodded decisively.

Mfalme growled. "That is because you were given more than the Circle of Life has decreed to be your share. As king I restored the balance. You call that deprivation; I call it justice. Despite your size, you are not the sole animal in these lands. Others must be able to live, and they cannot if you will not fulfill your role."

"Why should I care about them?" The elephant eyed Dhahabu again. "And why should I listen to you? Where is it written that lions are the wisest of beasts?"

"In the stars."

Damu grunted. "Never put much stock in the stars. They don't stay in one place, you know. Besides, you don't show any respect for me, so why should I return the favor?"

"Only those who show respect are worth receiving it," Mfalme commented ominously. "And what proof do you have that I have never respected you?"

"Why, look at your cub there!" the elephant blustered. "He tried to attack my son!"

Mfalme turned toward Dhahabu. "Did you, son?"

"I—I was going to, until I saw what he was," Dhahabu said in a quiet, sad voice. "But then I saw how frightened he was, and I tried to be friends with him."

"Hah! A likely story!" Damu turned his head away and blatted a sour note.

Tembo, by now, had arisen and stood between his father and Mfalme, trembling. "But, Dad, it's true! Dhahabu—"

"Silence!" Damu pounded one foot on the ground. "Don't believe a word lions say, Tembo! You know they'll sooner eat an elephant calf as look at one."

Mfalme, more sad than angry, shook his head. "You should stop feeding your son lies, Damu."

"As should you, Mfalme!"

"You should address me," the Lion King snapped, "as 'your Majesty'!"

"I'd sooner break off my tusks!"

Mfalme sighed. "This is going nowhere. I believe my son—and yours. You have no quarrel here. Take Tembo and go."

"My movements are my own," Damu said obstinately. "I will follow no order from you."

Malkia stepped forward. "I suggest you do as he says, Damu. For your sake."

"Is that a threat?" The elephant stepped between Tembo and Mfalme.

"If you make it so. Do you want the entire pride to rise against you? My mate won't hesitate to call them." Malkia locked her eyes on Damu's.

For a long moment the elephant scowled belligerently, but at last he lowered his head to his son. "Very well. Tembo! Come along."

Tembo hung his head and turned to leave. "Good-bye, Dhaha—"

Without warning Damu delivered a stinging blow to his son's hind end with his trunk. Immediately Tembo began to cry and sank to the ground in pain. "Cease your tears AT ONCE! Elephants do not cry. You must be strong and show no emotion. How many times must I tell you, boy? Any other way will make you a victim. One day you will be the largest animal in the savanna—now behave that way! Hold your head up, and come along!"

Desperately Tembo struggled to his feet, still sniffling, and stumbled after his father. As they passed through the grass, Dhahabu could hear Damu still lecturing. "You are never to speak to that lion cub, or any other lion, again! Is that clear?"

Dhahabu couldn't hear Tembo's answer, but he hoped the little elephant had said no in his heart. Suddenly, the future king didn't feel so regal anymore. The only thing he felt was helpless—and he wondered, suddenly, why the kingship mattered.

* * *

(A quick note: this is an old story I wrote, back from 1998 to 2000, and also posted on Lion King. org. I decided to share it here too, just in case not everyone had seen it, and because even after all this time I am still proud of it. I hope you enjoy it!)


	2. Chapter 2: Death and Regret

**Chapter 2: Death and Regret **

That evening, as the distant mountain peaks shrugged aside the slowly cooling air like giants' shoulders and the indigo darkness faded into velvet night, Dhahabu curled up in his father's mane and nuzzled him, searching for comfort. "Dad? Do you think I'll ever see Tembo again? I really liked him..."

Mfalme sighed and nuzzled him back. "I don't know, son, nor do I know if you should see him again."

"You don't hate him because of his dad, do you?" Dhahabu jutted his chin out stubbornly.

The Lion King laughed. "No, son. I rather liked Tembo. But his father is the reason I'm worried. I don't know what he'd do if he ever found you two together again."

"Well, he just won't have to!" The golden cub nodded decisively. Then his face fell. "I don't know why he had to go and be so mean, anyway!"

Mfalme gazed at him seriously. "Dhahabu, the Circle of Life turns for all, but not every animal can discern where he will be carried, or understand the purpose of the journey. Damu is one of these. He cannot see the savanna for the grass, for he thinks only of himself, of this moment, of the present pangs of hunger and thirst. What you must learn if you are to be a good Lion King is that there will always be animals like Damu.

"You cannot avoid them, any more than you can avoid your place in the Circle. They will always be lurking in the shadows, waiting to drag you down. But a good king will always overcome them because he will trust in the Circle. Those who do not abide by its laws are soon shown the error of their way. You must stand as an example, manifest to all the animals the Circle's wisdom. You can only defeat the Damus of this life by rising above them."

Dhahabu's eyes had grown perceptibly wider as his father had spoken. Now he stood proud and erect, feet planted firmly on Mfalme's shoulder. "I can do it, Dad! I won't let you down!"

Mfalme chuckled. "My brave young cub, it's time you were asleep."

"Awww, Dad..."

"The first sign of wisdom is knowing when to obey," the Lion King observed casually.

Dhahabu took the hint and buried himself in his father's mane once more. As he fell asleep, he vowed to himself that he would be the greatest Lion King he could be, so that all the Tembos of the Kiburi Pride need never fear the Damus again.

* * *

The fiery yellow ball of the sun hung high overhead as Dhahabu approached the waterhole the next afternoon. No other animals were in sight, for it was the hottest part of the day. He would never have ventured out himself, if not for his thirst.

As he lapped up the cool, refreshing water, the cub eyed his reflection. He hoped he would be big and strong one day, or he would never be able to be the king his father wanted him to be. As it was now, it appeared Sulubu would always be bigger and stronger than he was...

When he had finished slaking his thirst, Dhahabu walked along the edge of the waterhole, searching for his siblings. He found them at last not far away, busily devouring termites from an enormous mound of dirt. "Hey, Taraji, Sulubu!"

His sister looked up curiously, but Sulubu didn't even twitch an ear, so intent was he on the line of termites crawling up the mound.

"You guys want to play?" Dhahabu asked hopefully.

"Sure, bro!" Taraji smiled.

"I'd rather hunt..." Sulubu muttered.

"That's all you ever want to do!" Dhahabu complained.

Sulubu looked up and smirked. "You're one to talk. Seems to me you could use a little help in that department!"

Dhahabu glared at him. "And I suppose you're gonna give it to me, O mighty hunter?"

The dark cub sighed, and all his superiority fell away. Suddenly his face was that of a concerned brother. Rising to his feet, Sulubu walked over to stand in front of Dhahabu. "Sure I will, if you want me to."

Dhahabu blinked. "You—you mean it? You're not just...teasing me?"

Sulubu smiled. "Dhahabu, you're my brother, and you're gonna be the Lion King someday. How would it look if you had to depend on your brother to do all your hunting?"

Dhahabu swiped playfully at him. "Sulubu..."

"I'm just kidding. But really, you have to learn sometime, and Dad can't do it all. He has the whole pride to watch out for. When was the last time he took you out for hunting practice?"

"Ummm..."

"Just as I thought. Come on, bro." Sulubu nuzzled him and then loped up the hillside. At the top he paused. "Well? I'm starving—aren't you?"

Dhahabu grinned. "You bet I am!"

* * *

"The problem you had yesterday with Tembo was you didn't listen." Sulubu sat in the shade of an acacia tree with his brother, while Taraji lay with her head on her paws a few feet away, watching with a smirk; she wasn't going to miss this for anything! She watched Dhahabu hanging on his brother's every word and giggled quietly.

"Yeah, you're right, Sulubu! That's it exactly! I heard a rustling in the grass, but I didn't stop to think how big the animal had to be."

Sulubu smiled. "Of course I'm right. When you hunt, you have to use all your senses—your ears as well as your eyes and nose. Take it from me, I'm a natural."

"So where do we start?" Dhahabu asked eagerly.

"Something small, like a mouse."

Dhahabu scowled, but didn't argue.

Sulubu warned his brother to be still and then crouched down as low as he could possibly go. Soundlessly he crept through the grass toward the base of the tree, where a fallen log rotted—the perfect place for a mouse to nest. Dhahabu watched breathlessly as his brother drew up next to the log. Sulubu's hind end quivered, his claws dug into the dirt, and his tail lashed madly. Then...

"RRRRRR!" Sulubu landed with his paws clasped inside the darkened interior of the log. Backing up, he turned and strutted over to his brother, a mouse dangling from his outstretched paw. "See? Not a sound until I was ready to strike."

"I didn't even know he was there!" Dhahabu marveled.

"That's because you weren't listening," Sulubu admonished him. "Now you try. Remember: use all your senses!" He released the frightened mouse, which ran as fast as its little legs could carry it back to the log.

Dhahabu crouched down, imitating his brother, and slipped through the grass. But when he tried to listen, every sound distracted him. He could hear crickets chirping, the gurgle of the river, the wind rustling the leaves of the acacia tree. He steeled himself. He had to prove himself. Ears pricked intently, he finally isolated the tiny squeaks of the mouse. Tensing himself, he pounced.

And there was the mouse, twice as frightened as before, shivering between his paws.

"I did it! I did it!" Dhahabu turned and held the mouse out.

Sulubu smiled slightly. "Yeah, you did. But that was just the first lesson..."

* * *

By mid-afternoon, Dhahabu had graduated to larger prey, and he had learned to pay attention to his senses. He learned to identify the flowers butterflies preferred by scent alone. He learned to hear his father's mole scout digging his tunnel when he was still three yards distant, so as to pounce on him when he emerged (an action the mole protested vehemently for several minutes afterward). He learned to feel the earth trembling under his paws when a herd of zebra was on the move.

At last, when he brought down a guineafowl with a swift, efficient bite to the neck, Sulubu cheered. "Bro, I think you've got it! You just needed time to work on it."

"Yeah!" Taraji chimed in, genuine admiration in her blue eyes. "You looked great out there!"

Dhahabu blushed. "You're just saying that..."

For answer both Sulubu and Taraji pressed in on either side and rubbed him fiercely, purring.

"All right, I believe you, cut it out!" When he could breathe again, Dhahabu smiled. "So, what should we do, now that I'm a mighty hunter?"

Taraji frowned thoughtfully. "Well, we could go exploring. That way, if we run into any trouble, you and Sulubu can save the day!"

Sulubu nodded. "I heard about a really cool place from a zebra colt the other day—it's an elephant graveyard called Kivuli."

Dhahabu stiffened. "An elephant graveyard?"

"Hey, it's all right. The elephants consider it sacred ground, the zebra said. They won't go there. You don't have to worry about Damu."

The golden cub looked offended. "I wasn't worried!"

Taraji and Sulubu exchanged a long, knowing glance. "Sure you weren't," they said together.

"Hey, you would be too if you'd met him like I did!" Dhahabu grumbled to himself as his siblings laughed hysterically.

When they had managed to control themselves, Dhahabu snapped, "All right, but why should we go there? What's so cool about it?"

"Well, from what I heard, it's really creepy," Sulubu remarked. "There's these holes in the ground that shoot out fire and burning water, and whole piles of bones to hide in, and lots of nasty animals to hunt!"

Both Taraji and Dhahabu looked interested now. "Sounds like fun," Dhahabu admitted.

"Yeah, but what if we get caught by Dad?" Taraji asked, worried.

"We won't," Sulubu assured them. "Kivuli is on the far northern border of our lands."

"It sounds dangerous," Dhahabu mused, his tone at once innocent and sly.

"Yeah," Taraji agreed, just as mischievously.

"LET'S GO!" all three shouted as one.

As they ran northward, startling a flock of flamingos near the river, Sulubu yelled, "And if we do run into anything, it won't be a threat to us. That zebra said there's no predators there!"

"Yeah!" Dhahabu yelled back. "What could go wrong?"

* * *

The afternoon sun was hidden behind a wall of towering clouds as Dhahabu and his siblings at last arrived at the border of Kivuli. For the last few miles, the land had become increasingly gray, misted, and still, a lifeless barren of dust and parched earth. By the time the three lion cubs topped the final rise before the elephant graveyard, Dhahabu was prepared to see a wasteland, but his breath still fled when it was actually before his eyes.

The land lacked all vegetation—the heat and fumes from the fumaroles was too intense for life to exist in such a hellish place. Everywhere he looked, he saw elephant bones—massive skulls with the tusks still attached, curving ribs like gigantic monoliths, arched backbones like accusing fingers pointing to the overcast sky. A thick haze permeated the forgotten valley, reducing visibility enormously, but it appeared that the tract of death continued to the horizon, a jagged expanse of rocks, broken cliffs, caverns, and chasms.

Sulubu whistled. "Whoa, it's better than I thought it would be!"

Taraji giggled, a trifle nervously. "Yeah!"

Dhahabu only stared at the grim vision before his young eyes, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong...

"Do you really think we should go down there?" he ventured. "We can see it fine from up here..."

Sulubu laughed. "If you want to go and be an ostrich, with your head stuck in the sand, be my guest! But I'm going down there to show you what a real hunter can do..." With effortless bounds the dark cub leapt down the hillside until he was almost within the graveyard. "Come on! There's sure to be some mice here, at least."

Reluctantly, Taraji followed her brother, and Dhahabu even more reluctantly followed his sister. Together the three cubs stepped into the mist and into another world.

* * *

Elsewhere, another young animal was making a difficult decision. Hidden in the grass beside his father's prone form, Tembo watched the elephant's wrinkled side rise and fall in the rhythm of sleep.

Silently, carefully, he began to retreat through the grass until he was a safe distance away. Then he began to run.

Dad was wrong. Dhahabu was not a savage, bloodthirsty animal. He was friendly, warm, and sympathetic. And his father was a good king. The elephants might not have as much food as they did under Giza, but the rest of the animals and the land itself were flourishing. It wasn't right to deprive other animals of their food. And he would play with Dhahabu if he wanted to!

The ghost of pain flooded his hindquarters, where his father had beaten him, but he ignored it. His mother would have understood. She had not liked Giza. He remembered the arguments his parents had had, when they thought he wasn't listening. If only she were still alive...

Tembo paused mid-stride. "Mom, what would you want me to do?" he called to the sky.

Hanging his head, the little elephant muttered, "She can't hear me..." His eyes widened. "At least, not here!"

With renewed determination, he turned northward and began to run. He would go to Kivuli. He knew it was forbidden, it was sacred ground, but he had to see his mother's bones. There, perhaps, he would receive the answer he sought, perhaps he would learn that he was right to trust his heart...

* * *

Dhahabu froze, listening intently. "What was that?"

His brother and sister looked up from their respective meals, a shrew and a small bird that had been unlucky enough to fly within Sulubu's reach. "What was what?" Taraji asked.

"That sound. Remember, you said to use all your senses. Listen!"

The other two paused, heads turned to the side. Then the noise came again, a faint, ghostly chuckle.

Sulubu blanched, but then recovered quickly. "It's probably just the wind blowing through one of these old elephant skulls."

The chuckle came again, louder and closer.

"...or, maybe not." Sulubu's voice quivered.

Taraji sidled up to press against her brother's side. "I thought that zebra colt said there were no predators here!"

Sulubu's eyes were wide. "He was just a colt—maybe he was wrong."

Dhahabu joined his siblings, and all three began backing away from the sound's source. "What are we gonna do?"

Sulubu rolled his eyes. "We're gonna get out of here, of course!" He looked around and paused. "Does...either of you remember which way is out?"

The three cubs peered around wildly. It all looked the same—bones, mist, and lifeless dirt.

"Great! We're lost!" Dhahabu snapped. "I thought you were a 'real hunter'!"

Sulubu's bravado had vanished, leaving a frightened cub with a trembling lip. "I never said I had a good sense of direction..."

Suddenly, out of the mist, Dhahabu saw three disembodied pairs of baleful yellow eyes!

"Uh...don't look now, but..."

Slowly the mist receded, revealing a trio of hyenas, mouths agape to expose teeth dripping with warm saliva. One had a narrow, tapering face, another a short, dirty mane that stood up like a mohawk, and the other had a blunt muzzle, as if part of it had been chopped off, but otherwise there was little difference between them. They were all lithe, mangy, and smelly, and they all looked eager for blood.

"Well, here's a new one, Mwoga," the one with the tapered snout observed. "I've never heard of a meal that came to us!" She laughed shrilly.

"You got that right, Mwizi," the hyena with the mohawk replied, her eyes never leaving Sulubu's muscled legs. "But there's a first time for everything, ain't there, Mjinga?"

The male hyena with the blunt snout nodded. "Let's just hope it's not the last time—although it is their last time!"

All three hyenas erupted into crude laughter, but their eyes never left the three frightened cubs, who had gathered into a tight ball of fur.

Mwoga approached Sulubu. "My, you're a strong one, aren't you!" She circled him, appraising his flanks and belly. "So much to eat, and so little time..."

Sulubu snarled. "You're not going to even come close to laying a claw on me!" Crouching down, he bared his teeth, his hackles rising.

Mwizi whistled. "Woooo, look at the brave lion cub! He thinks he can waltz in here, take a look around, and waltz on out without leaving something for us to remember him by...like an ear, or a nice slice of loins!"

Mustering his courage, Dhahabu growled as well and imitated his brother. "We're all gonna leave here in one piece, and don't think that we can't!" As he flexed his claws, Taraji joined her brothers in menacing the hyenas.

Mjinga's lip curled. "I don't think you understand how hopeless your situation really is, little lion!" He lowered his head and bared his teeth at him.

"And you don't know who we are, do you?" Sulubu demanded.

"We know you're a three-course meal—salad, entree, and main dish!"

Mwizi laughed at her own joke, her whole body shaking.

Dhahabu rose to his full height. "We're Mfalme's cubs, and I'm the future king!"

Mwizi stared at him, her laughter silenced, but then she recovered. "Oh, really? What do you think of that, Mwoga? We're in the presence of royalty!"

Mwoga chuckled and began bowing facetiously before Dhahabu. "Oh, mighty King! Please don't kill me! I thought you were just a pipsqueak lil' lion cub ready to be my dinner."

Soon all three hyenas were laughing and bowing, while Dhahabu's face burned crimson with anger and shame.

"You won't think it's so funny when our father comes!" he yelled.

Mwizi looked up and smiled cruelly. "First of all, cub, we don't give a zorilla's ass who your father is—he has no power here. This is our land, and no upstart king who thinks he's better than Giza can come and tell us hyenas what to do. And second...I bet he doesn't even know where you are, does he?"

All three hyenas began to growl evilly as they formed a circle around the three lion cubs. Dhahabu realized that Mwizi was right, and his heart sank. He continued to bare his teeth, but he knew a fight would be futile. "I think we're in trouble..." he muttered softly.

But Mwizi heard him. "You got that right..."

* * *

For one seemingly eternal moment the six opponents eyed each other, the hyenas drooling eagerly, the lion cubs frightened but determined to be strong. Brown, blue, and gray met black three times over. The mist swirled sluggishly, its restless motions masking the outside world until all that remained was the glowing yellow eyes.

Then, with a growl, Mwizi leapt toward Sulubu.

Letting out his loudest roar, Dhahabu crouched and pounced, his unsheathed claws digging into Mwizi's hindquarters. His sudden weight jerked her to a halt as, howling, she spun to swipe at his vulnerable muzzle. But at that moment Taraji rammed the hyena in the side, knocking her to the dirt. Dhahabu let go of Mwizi's bleeding flanks and pressed himself against his sister, terrified beyond any words of gratitude as he watched the wounded hyena scramble up and leap toward him, her mouth agape...

Sulubu watched helplessly as Mwizi pounced on Dhahabu, for he was cut off from his siblings by Mwoga and Mjinga, who had their heads lowered, pink tongues passing over dark gray lips in gluttonous ecstasy. Sulubu clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. He had to help Dhahabu, even if it meant his life was forfeit—his brother was the future king!

Mustering his strength, the dark cub tensed his muscles and sprang...

Dhahabu froze in terror as Mwizi scrambled madly toward him, teeth gnashing furiously. She was coming too fast! He watched Taraji stumble over her paws in her haste to intercept the hyena, but a mad gleam filled Mwizi's eyes—nothing would deter her. As Taraji bounded in front of her, the hyena slashed instinctively, without thought, catching the lioness cub across the cheek and sending her rolling across the ground.

And still she came on like a charging rhino, looming in his sight. Dhahabu bared his teeth and raised a paw, ready to die fighting...

Then he stared in awe, fear, and amazed hope. His astonished eyes could barely accept what they were seeing. A dark brown blur streaked through the overhanging mist to land square in the center of Mwizi's humped back, bearing the startled hyena down in mid-stride. Dhahabu's eyes met those of Mwoga and Mjinga, which mirrored the same astonishment—it was Sulubu, and he had leapt over the hyenas! That had to be a distance of at least twenty feet...

Growls, snarls, and cries of pain rose up as Mwizi and Sulubu rolled across the ground, teeth ripping and tearing, claws slashing wildly. The lion cub bashed one paw into the side of the hyena's head, but she returned the blow, stunning Sulubu. This momentary distraction allowed Mwizi to shove the cub away and rise to her paws. She snapped viciously at his face—and Sulubu sliced open her throat along the jawline!

Mwizi howled and lunged, catching hold of one of Sulubu's ears. She bit down savagely, tossing her head from side to side. The lion cub screamed and half-collapsed, but he managed to plunge his claws into Mwizi's sensitive nose, causing her to recoil violently. As she fell back, Sulubu knocked her off balance, spilling her onto her back. His ear was bloody and tattered, hanging loosely by a flap of skin, but he knew he could not give up. Throwing himself onto the hyena, he proceeded to gouge and tear into her exposed underbelly.

With howls of outrage, Mwoga and Mjinga finally moved to action, running toward their fallen clan member with murderous looks in their eyes. But before they could reach her, Taraji and Dhahabu were on top of them, biting and clawing. Mjinga rolled away from Taraji and whirled to his feet, eyes blazing. "You're carrion, cub!" he snarled.

Dhahabu was cast off like a shed snakeskin as Mwoga flung herself into a complex, gyrating spin. Coming to a stop, the hyena swiped at the cub's face and turned to assist Mwizi, whose belly was now soaked with blood. But Dhahabu would not give up. Presented with Mwoga's exposed rump, he leaped and buried his teeth in her flank. Clamping down tightly, he twisted his head and ripped away a chunk of flesh.

Mwoga screamed and twisted her body to reach the cub, who'd spat out the foul-tasting meat just seconds after tasting it.

Suddenly a loud, shrill sound filled the air, one Dhahabu recognized instantly as the call of an elephant. But it was too small to be an adult... "Tembo," he breathed.

"I'm coming, Dhahabu!" the little elephant cried, his trunk raised high as he stood at the top of the nearest rise. Then, lumbering at first but soon picking up speed, he ran toward the hollow and the battle within it.

Sulubu heard the noise and looked up. Instantly Mwizi knocked him off of her belly and rose to her feet, her underfur dark and wet with clotting blood. She stumbled weakly, then regained her strength and snapped at Sulubu, catching one forepaw in her mouth.

But then Tembo was there. Letting go of Sulubu's paw, Mwizi turned in horror to see the baby elephant, head lowered and tusks leveled at her heart—tusks that were short and dull, but deadly. She tried to run, but slipped in a pool of her own blood.

And then Tembo slammed into the hyena.

He drove her up against a towering elephant rib as the other combatants froze in shock. Mwizi groaned when she connected with the bone, and then her head drooped. With glazed eyes she contemplated the pair of white tusks protruding from her chest with a strange sense of detachment. Then, as Tembo slowly retreated, the hyena slid off the reddened ivory onto the ground with a gurgling sigh.

For a single frozen moment Mwoga and Mjinga's jaws hung open, the other lion cubs forgotten. Then Mwoga snarled, "That was my sister you just killed, you wrinkled dung beetle!" She began to lope toward Tembo.

From his prone position on the ground, Sulubu tottered to his feet, blood oozing from a diagonal slash across his throat and chest. "Tembo saved my life," he whispered to himself. "Now I have to save his..."

Dhahabu's eyes widened in disbelief as he saw Sulubu stumble toward Tembo. "Sulubu! NO!"

But it was as if his paws were sinking into a pool of warm honey. Time seemed to slow as the future king leaped toward Mwoga, catching hold of her right foreleg. Angrily the hyena swiped at him. Waves of agony washed over him as her claws sank into his shoulder and embedded themselves in his muscle. The hyena casually hurled him away, then proceeded toward Tembo.

As he sailed through the air, Dhahabu found the scene unfolding before him clearer than his own plight. He saw Sulubu place himself in front of the baby elephant. He saw Taraji chasing Mjinga, who was also zeroing in on the wounded cub, but she was too far away to be of help.

Then he slammed into an outcrop of rock and fell to the ground, his ears filled with the dull roar of his blood and the pounding of his heart. Peering up dazedly, he saw Mjinga sink his teeth into Tembo's backside, saw Mwoga fall upon Sulubu, and then all was obscured in mist and a rising cloud of dust.

Forcing himself to his paws, Dhahabu glanced down and saw four gaping slashes in his left shoulder, the blood already beginning to clot. The roaring was still there, only now it seemed louder, closer, almost angry...

And then he realized what he was hearing. "Dad!" he cried, his voice faint. "Dad!" he called, louder.

In moments the massive form of Mfalme crested the rise, his chest heaving with great gasps as he strained to catch his breath. If only he hadn't been so far out on patrol when he'd heard the cries and seen the circling vultures!

Roaring once more, the Lion King descended on Kivuli like a dark-winged angel of death. Dhahabu watched with rising hope as the mahogany lion disappeared into the dustcloud. In moments yelps, shrieks, and howls emanated from the cloud, a discordant cacophony of pain, fear, and anger. Soon the two hyenas burst into view, running as fast as their legs could carry them, with Mfalme right on their heels.

The lion drew closer and closer, and finally he was able to snap his teeth down on one of Mjinga's hind legs. Biting viciously, Mfalme slid to a halt and swung his head in a wide arc, whirling the hyena by his hind leg until he connected with a towering pile of rock. There came the distinct sound of bone breaking, and then Mjinga hung limp from Mfalme's mouth.

The lion dropped him unceremoniously and stared after Mwoga, watching until she vanished into the mist and the looming dusk.

Slowly a deathly stillness settled over the valley of Kivuli. Dhahabu limped up to stand beside his father, peering intently into the dust.

Slowly, slowly, it began to settle. Then two dim silhouettes took form, coming closer and closer, until they resolved themselves into Taraji and Tembo. Both were dusty and bloody, Tembo with a long cut on his back from Mjinga's claws.

Suddenly afraid, Dhahabu hurried forward as fast as he dared, fearing what he would see yet knowing he had to see. And there, at last, he saw Sulubu...and instantly his eyes brimmed over with tears.

Behind him, Taraji stood motionless for a second, her eyes filled with disbelief; then she turned away, her mouth clamped shut as she struggled to contain the contents of her stomach. Tembo, too, turned sadly away.

Mfalme might have been a statue, so still did he stand.

Grief-stricken, Dhahabu stumbled across the uneven ground, slicing the pads of his paws open on various jagged rocks. At last he stood beside Sulubu...or what was left of him.

His ear was gone. His left forepaw was nearly chewed off. A raw gash bloomed on his chest like a poisonous flower, nearly two inches deep. His underbelly was in ruins, a mass of reddened fur and shredded flesh. His left eye was swollen shut, and his right hind leg had been pulled from its socket.

Dhahabu wept.

"Dha...Dha-ha-bu?"

The lion cub blinked and stared in disbelief. His brother was still alive!

The dark cub raised his head half an inch, blood welling up from under his muzzle, and spoke again in the same husky whisper. "Dhahabu...this wasn't your fault. I had to protect you, and your friend. You're going to be the king, and you'll need an adviser." He coughed up blood. "My place was to serve you, however I had to, and this was the way."

His head fell to the ground once more. "Be the greatest king ever, bro..."

Sulubu's breath rattled in his lungs, then escaped in a last puff of sound.

Dhahabu collapsed and buried his face in Sulubu's side, heedless of the blood. A storm of tears overwhelmed him.

_It should have been me, _he thought feverishly. _Sulubu was bigger, stronger...he was always the better cub than me_—_he would have been the better king! Why did the Circle take him?_

From behind him in the mist, Dhahabu heard a long, heart-rending roar of anguish, sorrow, and grief that rent the sky, echoing throughout Kivuli, penetrating the mist, reverberating from horizon to horizon until it seemed that all the world joined Mfalme in his mourning. But Dhahabu continued to weep, his paws cradling the battered head and his face pressed into the familiar fur.

_It should have been me..._

_

* * *

_(A/N: Since it has been asked how my characters' names are pronounced, a quick guide here: most of them are pronounced as they look.

Dhahabu = Da-HA-boo, Taraji = Ta-RAH-jee, Sulubu = Soo-LOO-boo, Mfalme = FAL-may (or muh-FAL-may), Malkia = (MAL-kee-uh), Damu (DA-moo), Tembo (TEM-boh), Mwoga (WOH-gah or muh-WOH-gah), Mwizi (WEE-zee or muh-WEE-zee), Mjinga (JIN-guh or muh-JIN-guh). As for meanings, none of them are particularly original. Dhahabu = gold, Taraji = hope, Sulubu = strength, Mfalme = king, Malkia = queen, Damu = blood, Tembo = elephant, Mwoga = coward , Mwizi = thief, Mjinga = idiot/fool.)


	3. Chapter 3: Growing Up

**Chapter 3: Growing Up **

They buried Sulubu on a hill overlooking the river.

It had been one of his favorite spots to play or to simply laze about and enjoy the land around him. The hill was high and covered with rich grass, and the waterhole could be seen just to the south.

It was a place that held strong memories for Dhahabu...

_...rolling down the hillside into the river...swimming soaked onto the bank...Sulubu's voice: "What are you talking about? You didn't stalk me_—_you just caught me off guard, that's all..."_

Dhahabu squeezed his eyes shut.

Sitting on the hillside with him were all those who had cared for Sulubu: Tembo, Taraji, Malkia, Mfalme, and the rest of the Kiburi Pride. Before Mfalme's paws was a small, uneven mound of dirt. The Lion King had ordered his mole scout to dig a grave deep enough to keep away scavengers, and Tembo had dragged a large stone onto the mound to discourage digging.

Dhahabu forced his eyes open, forced himself to look at the grave, wishing once more that he were the one inside it. He looked up at the others. Malkia was weeping piteously. Tembo's head was lowered. Taraji simply stared into space, not blinking, a look of shock permanently etched into her face. The fur under Mfalme's eyes was dark, the flesh sunken and hollow from lack of sleep. He still remembered with pain how it had felt to lift his son's lifeless body onto his back and carry him home...

The wind whined softly across the hilltop, stirring Mfalme's mane, and then at last he spoke.

"There comes a time in this life when we lose our faith. We begin to doubt the Circle, we wonder why it has dealt us the life that it has. Such a time is now."

Malkia leaned against his shoulder, shaking with her sobs.

Mfalme looked down at her mournfully. "I will not even attempt to guess why the Great Kings took Sulubu from us. Perhaps he was meant for better things. Perhaps he was too good for this world..." His voice cracked. "But whatever the reason, and whenever we know it, if such a time comes, we must move on. Life is meant to be lived; Sulubu would not want us to spend our time in endless mourning. We are the Kiburi Pride, with duties to ourselves, to our subjects, and to the land."

One of the other lionesses nodded solemnly. "That is true. Sulubu was the best hunter I have seen in years; he would want us to continue the hunt."

Malkia sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Your words are meant well, but they bring little comfort—I have lost my precious son!"

Mfalme nuzzled her and peered anxiously into her face. "Yes, my love, but you must also remember what you still possess..." He glanced down at Taraji and Dhahabu, side by side, their faces displaying different but equally emotional stages of grief.

Malkia followed his gaze and blinked. "You are right, my mate. I have let my sorrow blind me to a great joy." She turned towards Tembo. "And I have you to thank for this. Tembo, you are welcome among our pride from this day forward. As long as your father does not know where you go when you play, you will be safe." She turned back and looked at Dhahabu, whose shoulders were slumped. "And I have the feeling a friend like you is exactly what Dhahabu needs right now..."

The wind rose again, and Mfalme lifted his head to the sky. "O Kings, take care of my beloved Sulubu. He will be strong for you, for whatever you require of him."

With these words the lionesses rose to their paws and began the slow return to the pride's den. When the last lioness was gone, Malkia rubbed on Mfalme's side and then turned and followed them. Mfalme glanced down at his son. "Dhahabu..."

"Dad..." The golden cub's voice was husky and low from disuse. "I just want to be alone for a while longer, OK?"

Mfalme nodded in understanding, then glanced meaningfully at Taraji and Tembo. Slowly the lioness cub came out of her shocked reverie and rose to her paws. She rubbed half-heartedly against her brother and then joined her father. Tembo gently touched Dhahabu's back with his trunk. "When you need me, I'll be there," he whispered. Then he joined the two lions, and together the three turned and descended the hillside.

For a long moment Dhahabu remained frozen in place. Then he collapsed across his brother's grave, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Sulubu...I know you said it wasn't my fault, but if you hadn't had to save me, none of this would have happened. I just knew we shouldn't have gone to Kivuli, but you were so excited, and we thought it was safe, I guess the hyenas moved in after that zebra colt was there..."

He was babbling. Bringing himself up short, Dhahabu fell silent. Then he laid his head on his paws. "You wanted me to be the best king ever, bro, but that's not possible—that's what you would have been. I don't know how I can ever be what you wanted me to be..."

The cub squeezed his eyes shut. Sulubu, pouncing on him from the acacia tree...Sulubu, standing proud and defiant when Mfalme confronted Damu...Sulubu, eyes fixed on a line of termites...Sulubu, nuzzling him...Sulubu, teaching him how to be a better hunter...Sulubu, leaping to save him from Mwizi...

Sulubu, bloody and dead.

Rising weakly to his paws, Dhahabu stared morosely at the grave one last time, the grave where his innocence lay interred with his brother, then turned and stumbled down the hill toward the waterhole. When he reached it, he plunged his muzzle into the cool and refreshing water and drank thirstily. Lifting his head up, Dhahabu looked around belatedly. There were no hyenas or any other animal around; it was as if the Circle had frozen for this one day in memory of his brother...

His brother...He sniffed the air wildly, a confusing welter of thoughts running through his mind. It was impossible! He'd seen his brother die—_yet he could smell his familiar scent! _Was he losing his mind?

Glancing about for answers, Dhahabu suddenly noticed the young kigelia tree beside him, which he had ignored when he came to the water's edge. Its branches waved in the wind, their leaves rustling softly, like a well-remembered voice whispering to him words of comfort.

Uncertainly he approached the tree until his muzzle was to the rough bark. Then he sniffed. Stricken, he fell back. That was his brother's scent—still there from when he had last marked that tree, an ephemeral remnant of the brave cub who had died for him!

Dhahabu's tears welled up anew. That was all he would ever have—smells, dreams, memories, patches of shed fur in the pride's den. This place, in fact everywhere around him, would always remind him of his brother. Wherever he went, he would see him.

He turned back to the waterhole. Gazing at his reflection, he barely recognized himself. His fur was still caked with dirt from Kivuli; dried blood surrounded cuts on his forehead, sides, and belly. On his left shoulder, he could clearly see the four jagged wounds, far from healed, that Mwoga had given him. He would carry those four wounds for life, as scars. One more thing to remind him of who he had lost...

Dhahabu paused in mid-thought. What was he doing to himself? Sulubu would not want this! His father was right, he had to move on. The past could not be changed, only the future.

"But it's so hard to let go!" he cried aloud.

Slowly, as he stared at the landscape around him, Dhahabu's thoughts returned to his memories of his brother, but this time he remembered them fondly, as treasures to be preserved and examined in times of sorrow. Slowly he contemplated Sulubu's dying words—they had been a command, but one given out of love, one intended to guide his path for years to come. How could he refuse his brother's wishes?

He glanced up and watched the wind stir the grass beside the waterhole. It was as if an invisible presence were there, running through the savanna, never quite tangible but real all the same. He thought he heard a soft laugh, thought he saw the flicker of a tuft of hair on a leonine tail, and then it was gone.

Suddenly Dhahabu didn't mind anymore that every place he went would remind him of Sulubu...that meant he would never forget him. And his brother would always be with the Great Kings, watching over him. Perhaps the Circle required him to be a great king, and as long as Sulubu lived, his strength would overshadow Dhahabu's.

"I will be what you want me to be, brother," he whispered.

Impulsively he began to groom, determined to restore his coat to its former beauty. He eyed his reflection in the water between licks, and what he saw pleased him—slowly his golden color was emerging, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. And as his coat brightened, so did his heart. Sulubu was no longer alive, yet he was not lost...he lived on in his heart.

Dhahabu gazed up into the sky. "Thank you, Sulubu. I won't let you down."

A lone sunbeam spilled down from the sky to warm the earth where he stood.

* * *

Days and weeks turned into months, and the Circle of Life continued to turn. Determined to fulfill his vow to his brother, Dhahabu was eager to learn all his father could teach him, however long it took, as long as it would make him a king Sulubu would be proud of. Tembo, also anxious to carry out Sulubu's dying wish, took every opportunity to sneak away from his father to join Dhahabu, at whose side he hung on Mfalme's every word.

It was her brother's firm resolve that finally rescued Taraji from her depression. After days of quiet conversation with Malkia in which Taraji's responses were soft, incomplete snatches of words, the lioness cub at last began to notice Dhahabu. At first she became angry, indignant at his seeming desecration of Sulubu's memory.

But as time passed she slowly realized his learning was in honor of their brother—and that as Dhahabu's sister, it was her duty to support him in every endeavor. He was the future king. So for her brother's sake she came out of her shell—and gradually, through Mfalme's lessons, found value in living again.

As the weeks passed, Tembo and the two lion cubs soon experienced a different sort of change in their lives—they were growing up. It all began one morning when Dhahabu noticed his reflection in the river looked larger, more solidly built. Peering closer, he saw that more hair had grown between his ears and around his neck, lending him a decidedly shaggy appearance. Taraji was hunting nearby, but he called out to her excitedly. "Taraji! Come and look at this!"

She snarled, annoyed, as Dhahabu's voice frightened away the young springbok she'd been stalking. Turning, she marched through the grass until she stood at his side. "This had better be good, Dhahabu—you just scared away my dinner!"

"Look!" He gestured at his reflection.

Taraji peered down, but saw nothing even remotely interesting. "Am I supposed to notice something?"

"Yeah!" Dhahabu looked offended. "My mane's starting to grow!"

His sister stared at him. "You bothered me for that?" she demanded, disgusted. "I knew that a week ago." She turned and stamped away, muttering to herself about lost prey.

The rest of the Kiburi Pride was much more appreciative of Dhahabu's new appearance. Mfalme smiled proudly and caressed his head with a massive paw. Malkia gave him a lick on the side of his face. The lionesses of the pride expressed their approval with purrs and nuzzles, while Tembo let out a blast on his trunk.

Changes after that seemed to come every other day. As the months passed, the most shocking were the changes in Tembo. Ever since he'd met the young elephant, Dhahabu had known he would one day be as large as Damu, but knowing and seeing are two different things, and his mind was not psychologically prepared for it. As Tembo grew to tower over him and his tusks became longer and sharper, Dhahabu became more and more uncomfortable, but he soon found he had nothing to fear—Tembo was still his fast friend, and would never hurt him.

But one thing did disturb Dhahabu. As he and Taraji filled out and gained muscle, as his mane continued to sprout and fall across his thickening neck and broadening chest, as his voice deepened, Dhahabu noticed with worry that Mfalme was changing too—his mane was darkening, and the fur around his muzzle was beginning to turn white.

For the first time he realized his father was much older than he knew—he'd had cubs later than most lions...

* * *

Three years had passed since Sulubu's death, yet to Dhahabu it could have been the day before. He sat on his haunches beside the waterhole, the kigelia tree's shadow spreading across the water, the hot African sun winking at him through the leaves. In this very spot, he had found peace and a reason to go on. And before that, he had once gazed into this pool, thinking he would never be as big or strong as his brother...

"And look at me now," he murmured wryly, marveling anew at his rich baritone.

The reflection before him was of a magnificent, if young, lion in the prime of his life. Golden as the sun, his smooth, lustrous fur covered supple, muscular limbs and a healthy, well-fleshed body. The thick layers of his honey-gold mane formed a protective ruff around his neck, spreading out across his deep chest. But his gray eyes still held a haunted look, older than his years, and on his broad, left shoulder were four jagged scars that he rubbed absently with his paw, feeling an echo of pain. He sighed.

"Thinking about Sulubu again?"

He glanced up to see the lithe form of Taraji and smiled half-heartedly at the beautiful lioness she had become. "Yes, Taraji. It was on a day much like this one when he died."

His sister frowned. "Do you still blame yourself?"

"No, I know now that what happened that day was no one's fault..." He growled softly. "...except Mwoga's."

Taraji's jaw clenched. "Yes. Perhaps someday she will receive the punishment she deserves!"

The two gazed into the water for several long minutes, trying to dispel their bad mood. "Oh, Dhahabu..." Taraji murmured, eyes downcast. "I loved him so much."

"So did I." The young lion stared sadly at her, thinking of all the days they had spent together since he had made his vow. The two of them only had each other, besides their parents. He had grown closer to her than he had ever thought possible... Dhahabu placed one foreleg across her back and pulled her against him. "And he loved us. But the Circle will continue." He nuzzled her and then laid his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

Slowly, deliberately, Taraji licked his cheek.

Dhahabu's eyes popped open, and he raised his head. He'd never noticed how large his sister's eyes were...so blue and filled with emotion...

Taraji rose to her paws and began to circle him, rubbing gently against his fur. What was she doing? Slowly she lowered her head and rubbed underneath his chin. A delicate scent wafted up—it was like nothing he had ever smelled before...so enticing...

Dhahabu's face grew hot. What in the world was wrong with him? Why was he having these thoughts about his sister? Was he sick? He felt a strange sensation deep inside of him, unlike any other.

"Dhahabu! Taraji!"

It was Mfalme's voice.

Flinching guiltily, the two lions moved apart. In moments Mfalme, accompanied by Malkia, approached the waterhole. The queen smiled. "Now what have you two been up to?" she teased.

Eyes wide, Dhahabu rose to his paws and turned away, embarrassed. Malkia glanced toward his hind end and gasped. "Oh, no! Mfalme..."

The Lion King followed her gaze. A strange look crossed his face, a mixture of pride, amusement, and worry.

Dhahabu hung his head. "Dad, I—"

"Son, I think we need to have a little talk. Let's walk over there to that kopje." Mfalme turned toward the rock formation rising on the far side of the waterhole.

Slowly Dhahabu followed. It was obvious that his father knew what was wrong with him. He hoped Mfalme knew how to help him—his whole hind end, as well as his face, felt on fire! Did he have a fever?

As they approached the kopje, Mfalme paused. He glanced back toward the waterhole, where Malkia and Taraji sat side by side, apparently deep in conversation. "Son, there comes a time in a lion's life when certain...changes...occur."

"What do you mean?" Dhahabu was confused.

"The Circle of Life must continue." The Lion King sighed. "There must be a new generation."

Dhahabu froze. "You mean...cubs."

"Yes." Mfalme eyed him sympathetically. "It is completely natural, but unfortunately not very selective."

The young lion's eyes glazed over. All of the heat drained out of him, leaving him feeling cold. "Oh no. You mean, if you hadn't shown up...?"

"You would have mated with your sister."

Dhahabu sat down involuntarily and dug his claws into the dirt. He closed his eyes. "Oh no..."

* * *

Dhahabu pressed himself to the ground and kept his eyes shut, tears starting to form beneath his eyelids. How could he have even thought of doing such a thing to his sister? So what if it was natural, he should have more control than that...!

Suddenly he felt a slight weight on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he saw Mfalme sitting before him, one paw resting on the four scars Mwoga had given him. "Son, this is no reason to put yourself through such agony. What is important is that nothing happened...this time."

The young lion's eyes widened. "Oh, blessed Aiheu, you're right! I can't be left alone with Taraji anymore, I can't be trusted—I don't trust myself!"

Mfalme squeezed his shoulder, silencing him. "Dhahabu, you are the most gentle, loving, trusting lion I have ever known, and I only hope that it is my example that has made you so. I would trust you with Taraji's life. But you are right. We must make sure this never occurs again."

Dhahabu was puzzled. "How?"

Mfalme smiled. "By giving you someone else to focus on. I think it is time for you to go on a journey, son—to go to another pride and seek a mate."

Dhahabu's jaw dropped. "But—I've never been outside Kiburi lands, except once..." He paused, thinking of Sulubu, and then shuddered. "And why would another pride let me have one of their lionesses for a mate? Wouldn't their king simply kill me as a nomad?"

Mfalme nodded. "This is true, son, that this is the Rule of the Pride, but I do not intend to send you just anywhere. There are three prides close to our lands, but one of these is ruled by a dear friend of mine, a lion named Adhimu. I have not seen him in years, but I hear he has two lovely daughters who are close to your age. As a favor to me, I am sure he will allow you to choose one of them as your mate."

"But how will I choose?" The young lion stood up, his heart thumping with nervousness and a touch of fear—he had no idea what he would do or say to a strange lioness! "How will I find this friend of yours? And how will he even know me?"

The Lion King smiled. "Son, she will be your mate. I cannot guide you in choosing the lioness that you will spend the rest of your life with. You must follow your heart; it has never failed you before." He caressed Dhahabu's mane with affection. "As to how you will find him, use your nose. I will describe Adhimu's scent tomorrow morning when you leave, so there will be no mistaking it when you come across it. And don't worry, he will know you..."

Mfalme rose to his paws and stepped up to his son. "Give me your paw."

When Dhahabu complied, Mfalme proceeded to rub his cheeks against the golden fur with exaggerated care, depositing enough of his scent to leave an unmistakable marker. "When you meet Adhimu," the mahogany lion continued, stepping back, "hold out your paw, and he will know you. And you will not have to worry about being alone, either. I intend to send Tembo with you. If for some reason Adhimu doubts you, Tembo can vouch for you; an elephant's word is inviolate, as my friend well knows."

Dhahabu stared at his paw, then set it down almost reverently. "Are you sure this is the best way...?"

Mfalme nodded. "Even if this had not happened, I would have been sending you on this journey anyway. Our pride needs new blood, and you are almost an adult, Dhahabu. You must begin to take on adult responsibilities. I won't be around forever, and I want you to have a mate and an heir before I am gone."

Dhahabu winced. "Please, Dad, don't say that!"

"It is the truth, Dhahabu. Surely you must have noticed how old I am getting. I do not get around as well as I used to." He shook himself. "But I intend to see my grandson's birth, so I will not be leaving any time soon!"

Dhahabu sighed, relieved. For a moment there, he'd been afraid his father knew something he did not.

For a long moment Mfalme looked at him, his eyes running up and down his frame. He didn't know if his father was judging his fitness for the journey or gauging the strength of his soul...perhaps some of each. Dhahabu sighed, hoping his father would be proud of what he saw. At last Mfalme turned toward the waterhole. "Come, son, we must share my decision with your mother and your sister."

As the two lions approached the waterhole once more, Dhahabu's eyes went automatically to Taraji's face. Her ears were turned down, and her eyes were lowered. Everything about her seemed to express a secret sorrow. At the sound of their paws passing through the grass, Taraji looked up. The moment her eyes met his, she blushed furiously and turned away. Dhahabu glanced at his mother, who was watching Taraji sadly. Apparently a similar talk had been going on here as well.

Malkia looked carefully at her son and let out a sigh. All was as it should be. She looked into Dhahabu's face and saw the intense guilt and shame etched there. Swiftly the queen approached him and nuzzled. "Oh, son, it is all right. There is no need to be ashamed. You are a three-year-old male, it is in your nature. This is my fault. I saw you were maturing, I watched your mane grow, but I just couldn't accept that you weren't still my little lion cub..." Her voice broke, and she lowered her head, unwilling to let her son see her cry.

Dhahabu's pain intensified. He had done this to her, made his own mother cry! "Mother, please, don't do this to yourself!" He in turn nuzzled her tenderly. "I will always be your little lion cub, no matter how old we become..." He licked her ear.

Mfalme stood just behind his son, a sad smile on his face and pride in his heart. After watching Malkia and Dhahabu for a few minutes, he cleared his throat. "Beloved, I have made a decision that will help alleviate this situation."

Malkia looked up, surprised. "You mean—what we discussed before?"

"Yes. Dhahabu will travel to Adhimu's pride to look for a mate."

Taraji looked from her father to her mother in shock, but slowly a look of acceptance entered her eyes.

Mfalme glanced at her, then motioned unobtrusively with his head toward the distant den. "Perhaps we should leave them alone for a little while," he whispered. "This will be the last time they see each other for many days."

"Are you sure it is safe?" Malkia frowned.

Mfalme chuckled ruefully. "As safe as it's ever been leaving those two alone together! But no, I don't think there will be any trouble. They both know what could have happened, and are unlikely to let it happen again, as long as we send Dhahabu away now."

Slowly Malkia nodded and joined her mate in walking back toward the den. Soon Dhahabu and Taraji were alone.

For one uncomfortable moment brother and sister stared at each other as two strangers might, unsure of themselves and of each other, unwilling to trust and uncertain of the future. Then Taraji ran to Dhahabu and buried her face in his mane, a storm of hot tears flowing down her cheeks. Dhahabu gazed down at her morosely and caressed her neck with his paw, not knowing what else to do. "It'll be all right..."

"No, it won't!" Taraji looked up at him, eyes red and bleary. "We've never been apart, not since Sulubu..." She began to choke up. "You're the only one who helped me go on. I don't know what I'd do without you!"

The young golden lion stared at the cinnamon lioness. "Do you remember what your name means, Taraji?"

Taraji blinked. "Yes—hope..." She whispered it, as if truly hearing it for the first time with a heart that understood.

"Then remember your name while I am gone. Sulubu would want you to. He would want you to live for his sake." Dhahabu touched a claw gently to the scar underneath her left eye, the one Mjinga had given her. "You're a beautiful lioness now, and you have so much to live for. Somewhere out there is your mate; you only have to know where to look. I'm lucky, Father has told me the place. But you..."

"Are you sure you have to go?" Taraji begged.

"I was afraid at first, too, but now I see it is for the best."

"I'm not afraid!" his sister burst out indignantly.

Dhahabu chuckled. "Now there's the Taraji I remember. I didn't mean it like that. You just don't know where to go or what to do. Here's a suggestion: go on an extended hunting trip. Search your feelings, do some thinking. Hopefully by the time I return you'll have found the answers you need."

Taraji smiled a watery smile. "Now how did my annoying, cocky brother ever get so wise?"

Dhahabu grinned. "I don't know, but I sure didn't get it from watching you!"

His sister swiped at him, laughing. Dhahabu's heart swelled. It was so good to hear that laugh again after so many months without it...

The two siblings laughed and played like cubs for only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity, making up for all the time they had lost, for the cubhoods they had lost in Kivuli. At last, exhausted, Dhahabu glanced up and saw the sky had darkened considerably—stars were beginning to twinkle in the twilit sky.

"We'd better be getting back," he suggested gently.

"I know. It's just that this will be our last time of freedom. When you return, you will have a mate, and I will be a full member of the hunting party." Taraji paused. "And what about Tembo?"

"Dad said he was sending him with me as a precaution, in case Adhimu doesn't accept me. But when we return, I suppose he'll continue learning to be my adviser, and find a mate of his own." Dhahabu paused, picturing this, and began to laugh.

Taraji saw the look in his eyes and began laughing as well. "Well, we'd better go find him and break the horrible news!" she gasped, tears of laughter at the corners of her eyes.

Together the lion and the lioness turned and proceeded up the hill in the direction of the den. But at the top Dhahabu paused, his thoughts turning momentarily to Sulubu and to his father's mortality, horrible news that he could not bear to share with his sister. Then he lifted his paw and sniffed it. Taraji glanced at him strangely.

Not wishing to worry her, Dhahabu returned his paw to the ground and began loping down the hill, but as she joined him, his thoughts were more reassured. He might have only Tembo with him on the journey south, but he would carry his father with him as well...

* * *

It was nearly midnight, and the sky was a vast, cloudless expanse of black, with nothing between the earth and the stars but the frigid air and the coldness of space. Yet Tembo still stood alone on the hilltop, gazing down at the slumbering elephant herd below, his mind still working as he searched for the words that would reach his father's heart.

Earlier that night Dhahabu and Taraji had informed him of the journey to the Kusini Pride and, amidst laughter, his inevitable fall to the wiles of a female. Tembo blushed, embarrassed anew. There was a female elephant he had fond feelings for, but there was no way his friends could know this. And he had no romantic intentions at this time, he didn't even know how she felt about him...

Tembo shook his head. That was the least of his worries. This journey of Dhahabu's would be one of several days. How would he explain his absence to Damu?

"Well, Tembo, it's time to get it over with," he said to himself with a sigh. Slowly he descended the hillside toward the herd. As he approached, he spied the old elephant cow who had taken care of him after his mother died...but Damu was nowhere to be seen. All of the other elephants were asleep.

The elephant cow looked up, tears in her eyes. "Oh...Tembo!"

Tembo froze, his stomach in knots as he stared at her face. "Wh-what's the matter? Where is my father?"

Every wrinkle in her skin drooped downwards, and pain filled her eyes.

"Tembo...he told me to tell you that...it is his time."

The bottom dropped out of his equilibrium. "What? You mean—"

"He is waiting for you at the border of Kivuli."

Tembo stood stock still for one shocked moment, and then he turned and barreled across the savanna toward the north. It wasn't possible! Damu was old, but...

The wind rushed past him, cold and bitter, and the grass bowed before it like ocean waves. His mind raced, as if trying to keep up with the wind and reach Kivuli before his father. Three years ago he had gone to Kivuli to see his mother's bones and to learn if he should follow his heart with Dhahabu. He had arrived to find his friend and his siblings under attack by hyenas.

It had been a clear sign to him that his mother wanted him to stay true to Dhahabu—but although he had rescued Dhahabu and Taraji, poor Sulubu had not been so lucky. Now he was running to Kivuli again, and he feared tragedy would strike once more.

At last the barren, mist-shrouded elephant graveyard hove into view—and Tembo's breath caught in his throat. A massive shadow stood at the top of the rise, facing the darkened valley. It was Damu.

"Father!" he called.

The bull elephant turned slowly to face him. "Tembo."

Tembo slid to a halt, staring at his father. The elephant's voice was weak and husky, and the skin around his eyes was sunken and hollow. He could almost see all the edges and planes of his father's skull.

"You can tell, can't you." All of the life seemed drained out of Damu's voice. "I am old, son. My time here is nearing its end—and I wanted you to be the last to see me before I leave."

Tembo's words came out thickly. "But Father, I don't want you to go! There's so much I never got to tell you..."

"Tembo," Damu interrupted gently, "remember: I taught you to be strong. You are almost an adult now, and once I am gone, you must take responsibility for the herd."

Tembo became very uncomfortable at these words. "Father, that's one of the things I had to tell you. I...don't know if I'll be able to lead the herd."

Damu's eyes widened. "What...?" His voice came out as a growl.

Miserable, Tembo forced out the rest. "I...have chosen to become an adviser to...Dhahabu." He closed his eyes and waited for the explosion.

But it did not come. When he opened his eyes, his father was gazing at him with a look of sadness and despair. "Tembo, I no longer have the energy to rebuke you. But you have severely disappointed me. Unless you can offer an explanation that makes sense, I will disown you."

"No, Father! You don't understand!" Tembo's words tumbled out like a waterfall. "I couldn't help it! Dhahabu cares about me. I just couldn't believe the things you said about lions were true. I had to find out what the reality was. So I went to Kivuli—"

Damu's trunk stiffened. "WHAT?"

"I had to, Father! I wanted to visit Mother!"

A look of intense pain came into Damu's eyes and slowly his trunk drooped. "Of course..." he whispered. "I am so sorry, son."

Tembo eyed him guardedly. "But when I got here, I found Dhahabu and his brother and sister being attacked by hyenas."

Damu's jaw clenched. "Hyenas..."

Tembo took heart. "I was able to save Taraji and Dhahabu, with Mfalme's help, but Sulubu...was killed."

Damu froze. "I care little for lions, but...that must have been terrible for Dhahabu."

"Yes. He saw it happen."

Damu blinked.

"He was devastated, Father. I had to comfort him, didn't I?" Tembo pleaded.

Damu lifted his trunk and placed it on Tembo's shoulder. "Son, you have a good heart...better than mine. What you did came naturally to you—you could not have acted differently. While I cannot agree with you, I understand you." He paused. "But how, then, did you become his adviser?"

"Dhahabu's parents saw how much he needed a friend, so they asked me to stay and be with him. As he recovered, he became very attached to me, and I to him, and when his father taught him lessons on how to be a good king, I was there. I listened, and then one thing led to another..." Tembo shook his head.

"I know you think Mfalme is not the proper king. I don't—he takes care of the land so much better than Giza did. But even if you're right about Mfalme, that only makes my presence more important. If I am Dhahabu's adviser, I can guide him to be a king you would respect." The elephant stared at him. "Don't you see? I had to do this. It's what Mother would have wanted..."

Damu's eyes filled with tears. "You're right, of course. She would have wanted this. And I cannot betray her memory." He sighed. "I am still not happy with this, I still see it as a mistake, but it is _your_ mistake. I have taught you all I know; it is your choice whether or what to accept. You are an adult now, and you must live your life. I will not be here, but I trust you will be true to your heart. If that means you must be Dhahabu's adviser..." His voice dropped. "So be it. I may have argued with your mother, but I loved her, and I would not want to turn you away from her."

Tembo's face lit up with joy. "Oh, Father, thank you! You don't know how much this means to me..."

"Yes, I do, son—now. At last I understand you." Damu hung his head. "I...have mistreated you, I know, but I hope what I will say now will help you to forgive me. I'm just a stubborn old bull, set in my ways, but at least I can try to change before I go. At least I can give you the blessing."

Before Tembo could protest, Damu stepped close and raised his trunk. "May your tusks be sharp..." He passed his trunk above Tembo's tusks. "May your mind be wise..." He touched his son's head between his ears. "May your heart be pure..." He moved his trunk down to touch Tembo's chest, forming a cross with his previous pass. Then he raised it again and intertwined it with his son's trunk. "May you be true to the ancestors, and to generations hence." He stepped back and smiled sadly.

"Oh, Father..." Tembo's eyes were also wet. "Of course I forgive you. I've always loved you."

Damu gazed at him wordlessly, his eyes speaking volumes on his love and regret for what was lost. Then he turned and slowly descended the hillside. At the bottom he raised his head to the sky and called out Tembo's mother's name. Then he trudged into the mist and soon disappeared from view.

Tembo stood on the rise and let the tears run down his cheeks. He was an adult now—but the moment was bittersweet...

* * *

(A/N: Nothing really to say here, other than to apologize if anyone thinks I skimped out by having everyone grow up so quickly. I couldn't really think of too many fun, carefree things to happen while they were cubs that wouldn't have either copied the movie or been lame, and I was more interested in getting to the meatier, more dramatic things which happen during adulthood instead. Oh and yes, I am well aware that elephant herds are ruled by females, not males. Poetic license to allow for this bond between Tembo and Damu, and explain why his father was so determined to guide his son's path. But in my defense, just because the matriarch leads the herd doesn't mean her mate can't advise her. R/R!)


	4. Chapter 4: The Wahamiji

**Chapter 4: The Wahamiji **

Dhahabu loped slowly to a stop at the top of a small rise and gazed down into the valley below. A small waterhole glistened in the morning sunlight, its water such a startling blue that his breath caught for a few seconds. Beyond the waterhole, about a hundred yards distant, a herd of Thompson's gazelles grazed.

"Hey, Tembo!" The young lion turned and looked back at his friend, who was just climbing the rise. "There's a waterhole down there!"

"Good." The elephant flapped his huge ears in discomfort. "I could use a drink."

Together the two weary travelers proceeded down the hill to the edge of the waterhole. As he lowered his head and lapped thirstily at the placid surface, Dhahabu glanced at Tembo out of the corner of his eye. The elephant's trunk dangled in the pool, siphoning water, as listless as the rest of his body. Dhahabu sighed. It was now the second day of their journey. His father had described Adhimu's scent in careful detail the morning they departed, and Dhahabu hoped that he would recognize it.

He had had an emotional parting with Taraji and his parents. But although both his uncertainty and loneliness had stayed with him as he traveled, the lion had not failed to notice Tembo's subdued mood. He had barely spoken since their departure, and Dhahabu was worried. What could be wrong? The elephant had seemed perfectly fine the night he and Taraji had told him of the journey...

The rumbling of hooves made Dhahabu look up. The herd of gazelles was on the move. The lion narrowed his eyes and stared at the rising cloud of dust. Strange...the gazelles were upwind of him, there was no way his scent could have reached them.

Then he saw it—a cheetah, pacing alongside the herd, its lean body moving with a studied nonchalance. Dhahabu smiled in spite of himself; he'd seen this tactic before. The cheetah was affecting disinterest while testing the reaction of the prey.

For several tense minutes the cheetah watched the gazelles and Dhahabu watched the cheetah. Then, when the spotted cat had pinpointed the weakest gazelle, the one running the slowest and the farthest in the rear, it struck.

Suddenly, before Dhahabu's admiring eyes, the cheetah became a blur of yellow and black streaking through the ocher grass of the savanna. As the other gazelles fled in fear, the cheetah closed in on the lone animal galloping ahead of it. Even at that distance, Dhahabu could hear the gazelle's heaving breaths.

The cheetah sprang...and the gazelle had no chance. The cat's fangs glinted in the sunlight as its jaws closed over the gazelle's neck. Bearing the wounded animal down, the cheetah jerked its head sharply, and the gazelle's neck snapped. The tawny animal sagged and fell to the ground as the cheetah let go. Stopping abruptly, the cat looked around guardedly, then lowered its head and began to feed.

Dhahabu's jaw hung open. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a hunter like that..." he murmured. The lion sighed. He could never be that fast, but he was a strong and efficient killer—although he owed most of it to Sulubu...

Wrenching his thoughts away from that well-worn course, Dhahabu shook his head and turned to see Tembo's reaction. The elephant had not moved a muscle, his eyes lowered to the water, fixed on the fading ripples. He had not even noticed.

"Tembo!" At the sound of the lion's voice the elephant at last looked up, his eyes haunted. "I've been quiet long enough. If we're going to travel together, we can't do it in silence! What's the matter? You can talk to me." Dhahabu looked at him beseechingly. "You know I'm your friend. You were there for me, and I want so much to return the favor..." He placed a paw against Tembo's leg.

Tembo gazed wordlessly at Dhahabu for several long minutes, his dark eyes solemn and deeply expressive, though of what, Dhahabu wasn't sure. Suddenly he shivered, afraid of what he would hear.

At last tears began to well up in the elephant's eyes, and he uttered two short words. "He's dead..."

Dhahabu stared at him, confused. "Who?"

"Damu..." At this Tembo broke down completely, head dropping until his tusks touched the grass, every wrinkle in his skin seeming to sag even more until he looked as old as his father was—had been. The change was startling and frightening.

"Oh, Tembo..." Dhahabu didn't know what to say. On the one paw, Damu had always hated him and his father, and a part of him was glad to see him go, a thought which twisted his gut with its callousness. On the other paw, no matter what Damu had said or done, he was Tembo's father—and now his friend had lost the only parent he had left. He didn't know what he would do if he lost Mfalme...the thought still filled him with dread. For a moment he recalled Mfalme's words, that one day he would no longer be here...

He shook those thoughts away. He had to help his friend.

"Tembo, I'm so sorry. When did it happen?"

"The night before we left."

That explained the sudden change in Tembo's demeanor. "H-how did he die?"

Tembo stared at him for a moment, disbelief in every line and seam. Then he seemed to realize that Dhahabu actually didn't know what had happened. "It was his time. He—he had to leave us, go into Kivuli, and join the ancestors..."

Something—an image of his father, perhaps—passed before Tembo's eyes, and his gaze turned vacant once more.

Dhahabu knew it sounded inadequate, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. "That's terrible, Tembo, but at least now he's in a better place, and at peace. And he never had to learn about us."

Tembo blinked slowly. "But he did know, I told him before he left, and he accepted it..."

The young lion was startled all over again. "He _did_?"

"Yes." He smiled sadly. "He was a much better elephant than we ever gave him credit for. He even gave me the elephant blessing before he left...an honor I never thought I'd receive from him..."

Dhahabu swallowed a lump in his throat. "I know it may not help much, but...he's probably much happier now. He's with your mother."

Tembo flapped his ears restlessly, his surprise evident. "That's true, I never thought about it that way, all I could see was what I'd lost, not what he'd gained."

Dhahabu nodded. "That's why, when I die, I won't be so sad, because I know I'll be with Sulubu..." The lion's words caught in his throat, tears starting to form in his eyes.

Gently the elephant placed his trunk on Dhahabu's shoulder and sighed. "No need to think about that yet, Dhahabu. You have a long life ahead of you, and so do I. Now it's time for us to learn to live them."

"I can learn to do that—it's what Sulubu wanted," Dhahabu asserted. "But what about you? I've had time to distance myself a little from his death...you haven't."

"I will, one day." Tembo sighed and lowered his trunk.

Dhahabu gazed at him, and suddenly he knew what to do. "Would it help...if you talked about it?"

Tembo looked at him in gratitude for a long, emotional moment, and then he nodded and began to speak...

By the time Tembo had finished, both he and Dhahabu were in tears, and the lion was embracing his massive leg, with the elephant's trunk wrapped around his shoulders. "Oh, Tembo, I never saw him that way...I wish I had."

Tembo nodded. "He was proud and stubborn, but he had a good heart deep down inside, and that was why I could still love him. I only wish he could have let it out a little sooner, maybe he wouldn't have died so bitter..."

Dhahabu shook his head. "He may have been bitter, but he was also proud of you. I could tell from the words he said, and the way you said them. He wants you to be my advisor, and after hearing your tale...there's nothing that would make me prouder than to have Damu's son at my side."

Tembo blinked, the tears fading from his eyes in astonishment. "But—after what he said to you as a cub..."

"Words spoken in anger mean nothing." Dhahabu nodded decisively. "My father taught me that."

The elephant's voice was low and compelling. "And you learned it well."

Slowly, before Dhahabu's shocked countenance, the elephant bowed, his knees bending and his head lowering until his tusks touched the dirt and his trunk lay draped before him. It was a gesture the young lion had only seen once, from the elephant matriarch who had come to his father to reject Damu and accept Mfalme's rule. It was a gesture of intense respect and power, and it had never been given to him.

"Tembo, I..."

"Don't speak, Dhahabu. I acknowledge you as my king. Your generosity is greater than you know, and I can only offer you my humble service. Mfalme has taught me what he knows, as he has to you, and I hope it is enough. I promised my father that I will guide you to be the king he would respect, and I can only do that if I let my father rest and move on."

Dhahabu looked almost ready to collapse himself to a bowing position. "First my father, then Sulubu...now you and Damu..." he muttered. Then he turned his morose gaze to Tembo. "So many have placed their trust in me, and I don't even know if I deserve it! What have I done?" Suddenly he became angry—at himself.

"Tell me, what have I done? My brother died saving my life. And for what? All I've done is shackle you to me in the hopes I'll amount to something, and keep you from your father until it was almost too late. I almost ruined my life and my sister's..." He burst into tears. "I haven't done anything right!"

Tembo looked up and glared at him sternly. "That is not true," he said slowly, each word full of a determination Dhahabu had never heard there before. "You risked your life for your brother and your sister. You loved him, and you still love her and your parents. You taught me that lions are not savage, bloodthirsty creatures. And you love the land."

The elephant rose and looked around him at the vast expanse of grass and hill, sky and tree and water. "That, most of all, is clear. From the moment we met, you showed respect for the creatures who live here, and for every inch of the land. Don't you remember that first day of lessons after Sulubu's death? You wouldn't even step on an ant! And when you learned to hunt, to blend in with the grass, you became part of the land.

"You were born here, as was I, and we are a part of everything. You know that as well as I, and that is why you will be the Lion King—because you understand the worth of all. Another lion would have forgotten your brother, for he was not the future king. Another lion would have ignored the trees and grass, but you start each morning by greeting that huge kigelia tree near the den. You are the future king, Dhahabu—all you need is the faith to see it." He smiled. "I have ever since that day in Kivuli."

Dhahabu looked at him. Throughout his speech he had remained utterly silent, his face displaying disbelief, embarrassment, and awe by turns.

As the elephant said his last words, the lion's face at last became calm. Every muscle was frozen, a sculpted marvel of power and raw beauty. There was a look in his eyes Tembo had not seen before—not since that first day they had met in the grass by the river. A look of confidence, but more importantly, one of understanding.

"You're right." Tembo jumped. Even his voice sounded different, more commanding but also more wise. "Now I know why the Great Kings led me to you that day. I only hope I can live up to their expectations—but I won't stop trying."

He rose to his paws. "And the best way to do that is to find a mate." He smiled broadly, as these words suddenly filled him with a happiness that they hadn't before. The lion moved to circle the watering hole and looked back. "Come on, Tembo. Adhimu isn't going to wait forever to find someone for his daughters!"

Tembo laughed, rose to his full height, and trumpeted a blast that startled the feeding cheetah, sending it into flight. "Lead the way...your Majesty!"

* * *

As Tembo and Dhahabu proceeded southward toward their meeting with Adhimu, other events were unfolding that would have a great effect on their lives, events that were set in motion far to the northwest.

The lands of the Kiburi Pride were varied in topography, and one of the most striking landforms was a massive gorge that extended along the northwestern border. Beyond this gorge, the land became barren, a dusty expanse of fallow ground that soon turned to gritty sand. For miles the wasteland stretched, the parched earth cracked and utterly lifeless; nothing could live here, in a land fronting the vast Sahara, an empty tomb of hope and life.

It was an area into which few dared to venture, bereft as it was of any sustenance. During the day, the brilliant orb of the hot African sun beat mercilessly upon this sere land, sapping the strength of those who entered into the unprotected region. All was heat, a burning that seared the throat and left one gasping. Vultures circled overhead, eager to descend upon the foolish and weak, to rip away their flesh and feast upon their blood.

This land would one day in the years to come witness the fall of a prince, the sorrow and grief of a lion cub haunted by suffering and death and exile, the loss of innocence. It had a name, one most suited to the fate it visited upon its victims...the Majonzi.

But although it was lifeless, it bordered abundant growth, oases and jungles to the south that burst with moisture and verdant vegetation. It was these lands that enabled some few to survive in the Majonzi...for there were some who dwelt there, not by choice, but by necessity...

One eye bored into the landscape, its fixed gaze piercing the vista with an accusing glare, silently blaming it for all the misfortune its owner had suffered—not at the whims of fate, but as a result of a calculated plot.

The eye blazed a deep crimson, the color of blood...

Standing in the shade of the jungle, a massive tree overhead, the lion continued to glower, his single eye seething with hatred; the other eye, an empty socket surrounded by scar tissue, was a well of darkness sunk into his skull, plumbing its sinister depths. His body was a dark gray, the color of wet ashes; his flowing mane a rich black flecked with strands of silver and gold. His squarish muzzle was set, his teeth clenched in fury.

Staring, as if he could see the Kiburi lands, he growled softly.

"Mfalme..."

At last he broke his gaze; it was pointless staring; his father's lands would one day be his, and only with patience and cunning...but it was so difficult to restrain his anger!

He had just entered adolescence when that upstart Mfalme had entered his father Giza's lands and challenged him. He still remembered vividly the shattering roar the young lion had given...the look of hope on the lionesses' faces...his father's disdainful expression...

He shook his head. Giza should have listened to him.

The fight had been vicious...clawing, tearing, ripping—the blood flowed like the broad river that divided the land with its gentle meanders. He had warned his father not to underestimate Mfalme...but he had been confident in his strength.

The gray lion lowered his head in sorrow. That strength had not been enough. Mfalme had mortally wounded Giza and cast him out—him and his six sons...three of which were mere cubs, the other two fledgling adolescents like himself...Kuchinja.

Giza had died of his wounds shortly thereafter, his last words an adamant command to one day reclaim what was rightfully theirs, their birthright. Kuchinja had sworn an oath, dipping his paw in his father's blood and wiping it across his youthful chest...it would be done. Now, a decade later, his chest was massive and deep, but the oath remained unchanged, the dried blood still in his fur.

With all other lands claimed, he and his brothers had had no choice but to flee to the Majonzi and the neighboring jungle. Game was scarce, but the six had managed...some better than others of course, Kuchinja mused as he eyed his brothers sleeping in a circle around the base of the tree. But that was to be expected...the oldest must be the strongest.

Njaa and Tauni were the two oldest, his littermates, Njaa golden with a chestnut mane, Tauni a light tan with a reddish mane. Then there were Kufa and Vita, the twins with chocolate manes and bodies, and lastly Ushindi, the pale cream lion with the cinnamon mane.

That was all...the sons of Giza, condemned to wander as nomads, never able to stay in one place due to lack of food and their own tarnished reputation. Soon they reveled in the fear and anger their presence generated...they were the Wahamiji, the Wanderers, their name whispered in all the surrounding prides.

Kuchinja grinned smugly to himself. It was in one of those prides, the Nguvu to the east, that he had found the lioness his instincts desired.

Her name had been Tisho. He had found her alone while hunting, feasting upon a kudu carcass, and immediately he had wanted her. And the sons of Giza always get what they want...

Kuchinja's eyes unfocused, gazing into the distance. He remembered with pleasure how it had felt to take her...her body trembling beneath him as he forced himself upon her, the feel of her fur in his teeth and the sour taste of her blood in his mouth as he clenched his jaws, the look of terror in her eyes...how he had enjoyed that...the pleasure had been intense, but that look, the knowledge that her life was in his paws, had filled him with a greater lust and incited his passion to new heights...

He frowned at the last lion under the tree, a deep mahogany with a dark brown mane. That was his son Jahili, the result of that night with Tisho. Kuchinja scowled and curled his lip in contempt. He had named the cub himself; just as he, Kuchinja, had fulfilled his name, "slaughter", time and again, so Jahili would be raised to be "cruel".

But this had not occurred. From the beginning all had gone wrong...Tisho had died giving birth, a fact that still cankered Kuchinja's soul. Every day he thought of the lioness whose life had been stolen by that pitiful excuse for a son before him...

Worse, his son showed no inclination whatsoever to embrace the cruelty necessary to reclaim the Kiburi Pride, or even to kill prey. He was gentle, kind, and thoughtful, prone to daydream in the middle of a hunt. He was a disgrace, a pacifist who strongly disapproved of his father's actions with regards to Mfalme.

Kuchinja spat in Jahili's direction. He didn't know why he bothered to keep the colossal mistake around...he should have broken his spine when he was a cub, but his brothers had stopped him. Njaa especially had argued eloquently for his survival, and his possible usefulness in the future. Grudgingly he had agreed. But now he wondered yet again why he had listened...he was the rightful king of Giza's lands, and should listen to no one.

Kuchinja turned and looked out once more across the Majonzi, its surface blurred by the shimmering heat waves. It mattered not. He would find some use for the sand maggot, but one way or another, the Wahamiji would triumph...

"Yes..." he whispered. "Mfalme, your time as ruler reaches its end...I have already killed one of your sons...and soon I will have you between the pads of my paws." He raised a paw and flexed his claws. "The Great Kings cannot save you...you stole my rightful lands, they will not protect you..."

He laughed sepulchrally. "And then you and your family will die. I will watch the life drain from your eyes, and feel the kingship in my veins..."

His hollow chuckles hovered beneath the tree, as empty and lifeless as the land he beheld.

* * *

Yawning slowly, the heat of the day still keeping him groggy, Jahili stirred and lifted his head, eyes half-closed as he peered at his sleeping uncles, then out across the wastes of the Majonzi. Flies buzzed up around him, circling lazily, until a particularly vicious one bit into his flank. Growling audibly, the young lion turned and chewed vigorously into his mahogany fur.

When he looked up, Kuchinja was glaring at him. "So you finally decided to wake up."

"Good afternoon to you too, Father." The dryness in his voice was not lost on Kuchinja, who scowled.

Jahili sighed. His father was always glaring and scowling at him—he could not remember a time when he had ever been kind to him. He still remembered his cubhood so vividly...how he would rub against Kuchinja's leg, only to have his father pull away in disgust. How every day he was reminded of the death of his mother Tisho, which was his fault. How he was ultimately useless.

But he would not cry, No, he had done that far too often and been ridiculed for it. He would keep the pain inside and hope futilely that one day he would make Kuchinja proud...and love him.

The gray lion snorted, snapping Jahili out of his reverie. "What's so good about it?"

Jahili frowned. "It's good because we're alive."

Kuchinja shrugged. "It would be better to have our enemies dead."

"Our enemies?" The mahogany lion shook his head. "You mean _your_ enemies, Father. Mfalme—"

"Mfalme stole my birthright, and yours!" Snarling, Kuchinja stepped close to Jahili, his jaw clenched and quivering, his scarred eye socket sending shivers down his son's spine. A leopard had given him that injury and not lived to see another sunrise. Kuchinja seemed to know how much it bothered Jahili to contemplate his wound, even now, and enjoyed tormenting him with it. "That makes him your enemy..."

"No." Jahili's voice was steady. "Mfalme took the lands from Grandfather fairly. He abused the pride—"

Kuchinja's growl turned into a roar. Abruptly his brothers began awakening. Njaa was the first to do so. "Starting in on Jahili a little early today, aren't we, brother?" His voice was urbane, and also disapproving.

"It's never too early for that," Ushindi muttered sarcastically, but Kuchinja heard him and chuckled nastily. Tauni exchanged a sad look with Njaa, while the twins Kufa and Vita remained as laconic as the shadows they resembled.

Kuchinja narrowed his eyes as he noticed Njaa's displeasure. "I will treat my son however I please, whenever I please."

"Indeed." Njaa narrowed his eyes in turn, but fell silent. Yet as he turned away from Kuchinja, he gave Jahili a sympathetic glance.

The gray lion stepped into the shade of the tree and lay down, forcing his son to reluctantly move aside. He gave one last icy stare, Jahili's words about Mfalme clearly unforgotten, and then looked away contemptuously. An uncomfortable silence fell over the region as the Wahamiji brooded—in disgust, in anger, in boredom. Then, out of the Majonzi, two dark forms took shape.

Most would have dismissed them as mirages, but Kufa's eyes were sharp. "They're here," he commented softly.

Jahili rolled his eyes and looked away, while Kuchinja smiled in anticipation.

Soon the two visitors were close enough to be more readily discerned—hyenas, a male and female, the latter with a short mane that stood up like a mohawk...

Kuchinja rose to his paws and approached the pair. "Mwoga...Ukware. I am pleased you answered my summons so quickly. Such loyalty will be remembered."

Mwoga smirked. "Who else I got to be loyal to? Besides, you're the rightful king of Kiburi. I'd never turn on a son of Giza."

"Good..." The gray lion's solitary eye turned to the male hyena, whose blunt muzzle and floppy ears were quite distinctive. "And does your son feel the same way?"

Ukware bowed his head. "Of course, sir. I may be young, but I'm not a fool."

Jahili snorted at this, but wisely held his tongue. Kuchinja gave his son a warning glance, then turned back to the hyenas. "And what news do you have to report to me? What have you spied with those cunning eyes?"

Mwoga smirked. "Well it seems the heir to Kiburi has gotten a bit eager to be a lion, if you know what I mean...so Mfalme sent him off to another pride to find a mate. And his sister is off on a hunt, so they aren't there to protect the pride."

The gray lion's mouth curved into a sly grin. "How unfortunate..."

Jahili growled softly.

Kuchinja stared at him, eyes blazing. But Jahili would not back down. "Father, I will not stand by and watch you attack innocent lions for something that was justified. Grandfather was a tyrant and you know it! He wouldn't leave the lands, even when that terrible drought came. He made the lionesses follow his every whim...they lived in fear of him! He ruled by anger instead of wisdom and vengeance instead of justice. He killed and hunted because he could, not because he should. He thought of no one but himself...he was as craven and cruel as those hyenas there..."

He trailed off as he saw the look of venomous hatred burning in his father's eye.

"You pitiful, brainless fool." Kuchinja could barely speak, his body shaking with barely contained rage.

Jahili took a step back as his father strode toward him, his dark shape looming close. "But it's the truth—"

His father snarled. "Enough! You speak of truth, yet you were not even there...I have had all I can stand from you. I can barely look at you...all I see is a pathetic excuse for a lion! You call yourself my son...you are no son of mine!"

Jahili gasped. "But...I was only trying to make you see..."

"Get out."

"What?"

"Is there something in those two words you didn't understand? You must be more idiotic than I thought. I want you to leave." Kuchinja growled. "You are no longer one of us. You never were. I never want to see your muzzle in the Majonzi again. You will never be useful for anything...and it simply turns my stomach to look at you. Now leave!"

He stepped menacingly towards Jahili, claws unsheathed.

For a long tense minute the young lion stared at his father in disbelief. He looked at the grinning hyenas, then at his uncles. Ushindi was stiff with outrage and disgust. Kufa and Vita gazed at him with enigmatic indifference. Njaa and Tauni's faces registered shock and sorrow...but also acceptance. There would be no help from that quarter.

Jahili looked back at Kuchinja and blanched. The loathing in his eye was so apparent...

Tears welling up, the mahogany lion backed away until he was no longer beneath the tree. Kuchinja kept his eye trained on him, not backing down an inch. For an instant he considered saying something more but the expression on Kuchinja's face froze the words in his throat. Silently Jahili turned away, stumbling at first, then moving quicker, his large paws sending up clouds of dust that surrounded his form. In moments he disappeared into the shimmering heat, a blotch of color that soon vanished entirely.

Mwoga chuckled. "It's about time, Kuchinja. You should have done that a long time ago..."

She froze as the huge gray lion snarled and spun on her. "Don't presume to question my judgment, ingrate! And that is not how you are to address me..."

The hyena's jaw dropped. "Oh! Y-your Majesty! I-I-I was just saying..."

"I know what you were saying." He scowled, but inwardly he was pleased to see her groveling. "And don't say anything like it again if you wish to keep your throat intact. Never forget, your life exists at my discretion...I should have killed you for not taking care of all of Mfalme's cubs in Kivuli as I demanded. You're lucky you succeeded in killing one, or you would have lost more than your mate and your sister..."

Mwoga hunkered down, although it injured her pride to do so. "I won't forget. Y-you are the king..."

Kuchinja nodded. "That's better. Now, tell me more of what Mfalme and his pride are doing...it is time he received a visit from the Wahamiji..." He looked from the hyenas to his brothers, a feral grin on his muzzle. "And I would hate for us to arrive unprepared..."

* * *

Blue eyes narrowed in concentration, muscles taut with power, claws extended, Taraji crept on silent paws through the whispering grasses toward a lone acacia tree, the broadest limb of which supported the large dangling nest of a weaverbird colony. The birds did not have enough meat on them to make them a suitable meal, but the young lioness was becoming desperate. She had been on the hunt for two days now, and had only managed to kill a zebra colt for all her trouble. Anything was welcome at this point.

When at last she judged she was close enough, Taraji burst from her cover and raced toward the tree, fangs bared. The weaverbirds, startled, scattered from the nest in a blur of feathers. Taraji leaped into the air as several of the birds swung low in their flights and came within reach—but instead one of the birds slashed her paw while another pecked at her face and she was forced to fight them off as she fell to the ground. In moments the weaverbirds were back in their nest, far beyond her ability to catch them. The lioness panted and glared upward. She could almost swear their jabbering was actually laughter.

Sighing, Taraji turned and paced onward beyond the acacia, head hung in dejection. Two days. Two days since she had chosen to come west in her hunt. Kusini lay to the south, the desert to the north and northwest, and two prides that were only marginally tolerant of Kiburi—the Nguvu and the Jabali—to the east and northeast respectively. There was nowhere else for her to go, yet she was having no luck here.

And then there was her reason for leaving in the first place...Dhahabu, away on his journey to find a mate, to prevent the two of them from ever losing control again. Tears came to her eyes. Her father didn't trust them. She knew he had reason, Malkia had explained it all—her first season had started the day she left Kiburi and had nearly overwhelmed her with its power...she did not know if she could have withstood it.

Yet at the same time it wounded her deeply that Mfalme and Dhahabu had thought this was the only solution...to cut her off from her brother, and he from her, for something that was, in spite of its inappropriateness, completely natural. It made her doubt, doubt his love and understanding.

Worst of all was the alternative...to find a mate of her own, as Dhahabu was. She had no idea where to look. A simple rogue would be too apt to wander, his eye too likely to rove—she could not keep him. And most other males would either already be taken, or be daunted by her status as a princess.

"What am I to do?" she cried suddenly to the savanna around her. "Am I supposed to be alone all my life, without a mate and without a brother?"

The sky remained halcyon and cloudless; no answer was forthcoming.

She trudged on to the top of the next hill...and gasped. The sandy depression in the valley below her, an extension of the desert, was filled by a herd of addax.

Smiling in relief, the lioness lowered her belly to the ground and slipped noiselessly down the hill. The contented grunts of the addax as they lay in the shade of massive boulders urged her on...at last she lifted her head from the grass with agonizing slowness until she could see the herd. Closest to her were an addax cow and her calf, grazing on the sparse but succulent vegetation, and the adult favored her right hind leg. What luck!

Taraji shifted her shoulders in anticipation, eyes gleaming...

And then the breeze began, ruffling the fur on her neck—lifting it from behind.

All across the herd heads lifted, bearing thick, spiraled horns, as the addax caught her scent. A large yellowish-white bull at the forefront of the herd raised his head to the sky, letting out a deep, warning bellow, and then the addax scrambled to their hooves and began to move.

It was too late to turn back. As the antelope picked up speed and raced along the valley floor, Taraji leapt toward the addax cow she had spotted. She was at the rear of the pack, limping and lowing to her calf, who was nowhere to be seen. Snarling, the lioness moved closer, paws striking the ground and claws gouging the soil as she pressed onward.

She was just behind the addax when the sound of hooves pounding shifted—one was coming toward her from the side! She barely had time to see the bull addax coming at her, his horns lowered and his eyes blazing, before a kick from one of the addax cow's broad, flat hooves spun her away.

The kick saved her life. She rolled across the ground, and the bull bypassed her by only a few inches. As she came to her paws she felt the blood trickling from her shoulder down her leg, but she had no time to check the severity of the wound. The bull addax had slid to a stop and turned in her direction once more.

Taraji fled back down the depression, the addax at her heels, her only thought of survival. Far ahead she spied a dying tree at the edge of a drop-off, its roots questing futilely at the open air for nutrients.

She put on a burst of speed and was rewarded by a burning pain in her shoulder...no bones were broken, but it was clear the hoof had cut deep enough to tear her muscle.

The snort of the addax made her look back, and wish she hadn't. A vengeful animal fury burned in his eyes beneath his mat of black hair. He was determined to kill the lioness who had dared to threaten his herd.

Taraji could see clearer now what lay ahead. The drop-off was the edge of a nearly dry stream, its bottom only a trickle of water. An idea began to form in her mind...

The tree was upon her. Pushing as hard as she could, the lioness launched into the air and caught hold of a low-hanging limb with her claws. As the addax galloped toward her, horns at the ready, she looped her forelegs over the limb...and swung herself forward and up.

Unable to stop, his horns passing through where she had been a moment before, the addax fell forward—over the drop-off.

As Taraji fell backwards once more, she watched the addax tumble down the embankment...and through his bellow of pain she heard the sound of his neck snap.

Suddenly it was over. The addax lay sprawled in the miniscule stream, his head turned at a peculiar angle. Slowly Taraji let herself drop to the ground and proceeded as carefully as possible down the slope. She still slid in the loose dirt halfway down, but landed safely.

Grimacing in pain, she approached the fallen addax. "That's the problem with focusing too much on your enemy...you miss what's right under your nose, or in this case your hooves."

She glanced at her shoulder and winced at the sight of all the blood. Painfully she began licking the wound, knowing it would be a while before she would be in peak condition once more. But that was a fair trade for what she had received this day. She eyed the dead addax, his muscled bulk more than enough to satisfy her stomach for several days.

With the dirt cleaned out of her shoulder, Taraji limped to the addax and ripped her fangs into his underbelly. As she greedily devoured the meat, the lioness's thoughts turned from the prey to her other goal. Fervently she hoped that finding a mate would not be as difficult as this hunt had been.

* * *

Dhahabu lifted his head from the bark of the ancient baobab and smiled in relief. There it was at last—the rich, thick scent his father had described as Adhimu's, dark and earthy and quite distinctive. It was all over this tree.

"Tembo...we've found Kusini," he said with a grin.

"It's about time," the elephant grumbled.

The young lion sighed and looked around him at the lands it had taken three days to reach, the lands where he would hopefully find his future mate. They were every bit as beautiful as the Kiburi Lands—rolling hills covered with vibrant savanna grass, rushing streams and overflowing waterholes, tall acacias spreading their arching limbs to touch the bold blue sky. And the herds! The zebras and wildebeests were too numerous to count, and they were joined by water buffalo, impala, kudu...all in great number. The more he looked, the hungrier he became...

Dhahabu shook his head. These were Adhimu's herds, it would not do to hunt without his approval. Sighing, he nodded to Tembo and passed under the baobab, moving downhill toward a waterhole. But as he stepped over an upthrust root, he smelled another scent, stopping him in his tracks.

He leaned closer, sniffing deeply, trying to banish the impossible. But he could not. It was clearly the scent of another male lion, not Adhimu.

A chill went down his spine and his hackles rose. What was this? A simple rogue? Or something more? Uneasy, Dhahabu moved around the root bearing the disturbing scent and padded down the hill...

As the two companions approached the waterhole, Dhahabu was surprised anew. On the opposite side of the water, an okapi stood, come down from the forests and jungles west to slake its thirst. Its reddish-brown coat twitched and it stomped one of its oddly striped hind legs as flies chewed into its pelt. He marveled once more at what his father had told him, that this strange creature was related to the giraffe. He also marveled at its muscled body.

The lion licked his lips, his earlier decision fading in the face of his growing hunger. Surely Adhimu would not miss one okapi...and they had been traveling three days...

The okapi jerked upright and squealed, water still dripping from its muzzle, as Dhahabu streaked toward it through the grass. It tried to flee, hooves scrambling, but the apparent safety of the waterhole had lulled it into a false sense of security, and it was not quick enough.

The lion's fangs ripped into the okapi's neck and back, tearing away flesh. It stumbled in pain, head flailing, leaving Dhahabu the perfect opening to sink his teeth into the jugular. A few moments more and the okapi collapsed limply to the ground.

Grinning, blood coating his muzzle, the lion began feasting while Tembo looked on in a mixture of pride and awe bordering on fear.

"Hey!"

Dhahabu nearly had a heart attack at the sudden outburst. Spinning, he looked for his accuser...and relaxed, beginning to smile. Before him stood a cub, face scrunched up in what he assumed was an angry and threatening glare.

"Who are you, and who said you could kill that okapi?" The light brown cub—it was a boy for it had a dark brown tuft of mane—glowered at him, seeming unafraid of his large size.

Dhahabu chuckled. "My name is Dhahabu, and I killed that okapi because I've been traveling for three days and I'm hungry."

"Traveling, huh?" The cub's golden-yellow eyes lit up. "You wouldn't happen to be a rogue, would ya?"

Dhahabu laughed outright. "No, sorry, little fellow, I'm no rogue."

The cub scowled. "'Little fellow'! My name's Nuru. And how do I know you aren't lyin'? Rogues do that, y'know."

At this point Tembo stepped close and Nuru's eyes widened. "Because, young Nuru, Dhahabu is a prince of his pride."

The cub swallowed hard and his eyes flicked back to the golden lion. "Uhhh...um, I'm so sorry, Dhahabu—I mean, Your Highness!" He stumbled on his words nervously until Dhahabu grinned at him amiably, at which point he let out the breath he'd been holding and then began muttering to himself. "Awww, man, why couldn't you have been a rogue? I wanted to chase ya off, that's what my dad does to rogues..."

Dhahabu blinked. Only Adhimu would chase off rogues, but this cub could not be his son unless Adhimu had had cubs after the two daughters Mfalme had told him about. But he would be as old as Mfalme, he couldn't have cubs now...could he?

"Wait a minute," he interrupted. "You mentioned your dad. Who is he?"

"Well, Malachi, of course," Nuru answered promptly.

Dhahabu frowned thoughtfully. Could Malachi be the one whose scent had been on the root? Had he ousted Adhimu from Kusini? But the scent had not covered Adhimu's, in fact its placement on the root suggested subordination to him. What was going on?

"Could I meet your father?" he asked casually.

Nuru shrugged. "I guess so. But Dad doesn't like strangers, even princes like you."

Dhahabu exchanged a long look with Tembo. "I see. Well, after I finish my meal here, you can take us to your father and we'll see if I can change his mind about strangers."

As the lion tore into the okapi, his thoughts were churning as much as his stomach. Something wasn't right here...what had he gotten himself into? Who was this Malachi and what did he have to do with Adhimu? And would he be a threat when he, Dhahabu, approached Adhimu about taking one of his daughters as a mate? Would he have to fight this Malachi for her?

His stomach clenched with more than hunger. Things had just gotten more complicated.

* * *

Dhahabu's stomach was still in knots as he stood outside Malachi's den an hour later, waiting for Nuru to announce him. He glanced at Tembo, who returned a solemn gaze of his own. He sighed. At least, whatever happened, he had Tembo with him.

At last Nuru emerged from the small cave, followed closely by a young but thickly muscled lion with golden tawny fur and a blond mane, though dark hair encircled his face. With him was a lioness, and both of them looked suspicious of him, especially Malachi, whose golden yellow eyes flicked to Tembo with unease and a touch of fear.

"So." His voice was soft, a light tenor, but it harbored accusation. "My son tells me you are a traveling prince...but why are you traveling, and why are you here in Kusini?"

This close Dhahabu could instantly recognize Malachi's scent as the one that had been on the root. "I have come to speak to Adhimu," he responded warily.

Malachi raised an eyebrow. "And what business do you have with my father?"

It took a few minutes for the meaning of those words to fully register. "What? Adhimu is your father?" Dhahabu shook his head. That would explain the subordination of his scent to Adhimu's, but... "I understood he only had two daughters!"

Slowly Malachi stepped close, eyes narrowed. "Now how do you know so much about Adhimu?" he asked, his hackles raised.

Dhahabu did not flinch, even when a soft growl came from the other lion. "My father told me about him."

"And who exactly is your father?"

"Mfalme, king of the Kiburi Pride." Dhahabu's temper was growing short at the tone and frequency of the other's questions.

Malachi snorted. "I've never heard of him."

"Well I've never heard of you, only Adhimu, so we're even!" Dhahabu snapped.

"Stop this." The lioness, who had only studied Dhahabu quietly until now, stepped in front of Malachi, whose eyes were flashing as his claws instinctively extended from their sheaths. "Malachi, I _have_ heard of Mfalme, Adhimu has spoken highly of him in the past."

Dhahabu glanced at her in gratitude. "Yes, my father said he and Adhimu were good friends."

The tawny lioness nodded. "But, forgive me for saying this, how do we know you are his son?"

Dhahabu was ready for this and held out the paw his father had scent-marked. "Here is his scent."

The lioness sniffed his paw tentatively, then sighed. "I am sorry, I don't know Mfalme's scent...I can't tell if that is his."

"Then take me to Adhimu, he will know." Dhahabu locked gazes with her.

"Nuala, no!" Malachi burst out. "He could be a rogue trying to get close enough to kill Adhimu!" He glared at Dhahabu.

The prince of Kiburi kept his voice even. "He will surely know if I speak the truth before I am close enough to do any harm."

Malachi clenched his jaw in frustration and then looked up at Tembo. "And what is your part in all of this?"

"I am Dhahabu's friend and protector," the elephant said slowly, "and I am here to vouch for his claims. An elephant's word is inviolate."

The lion blinked. "I didn't know that." It was half a challenge, half an uncertain observation.

"Malachi." Nuala placed a paw on his. "You haven't been a part of pride life long, remember? What the elephant says is true."

Her mate sighed, then looked back to Dhahabu. "Why do you want to meet Adhimu?"

Still suspicious, Dhahabu shook his head. "It is a private matter, for his ears only." _This lion may not be a rogue, _he thought, _and already has a mate, but why is he so defensive...?_

Malachi narrowed his eyes. "I am his son, I promise you I will tell him and be discreet about it."

"Forgive me, Malachi," Dhahabu replied, "but I have no more reason to trust you than you do me."

"Hey!" Nuru, who had been listening with confusion, cried. "Don't be mean to my dad! It's not his fault he's this way. Ever since those humans had him—"

"Nuru!" Nuala gasped. "You know your father doesn't like being reminded of that."

As the cub's face fell in shame, Dhahabu turned quickly to Malachi and caught the pained look in his eyes. So that was why he had been missing from Kusini, and was so untrusting. But how had this happened? His mind whirled in confusion. Humans capturing a grown lion was unthinkable...

He shook the questions away as Malachi's expression darkened, angry at Dhahabu's stare. "Malachi, I'm sorry, I didn't know...but please, this is very...personal." He swallowed in embarrassment. "I promise I won't harm your father. Just please take us to him."

For a long moment the other lion gauged him, measuring the sincerity in his face and voice. Nuala softly brushed his shoulder with her paw, and when he turned to her, she peered up at him pleadingly with her golden-brown eyes. "Malachi, he's right. It's the only way to know for sure."

The lion nuzzled her gently, purring, and Dhahabu's fears faded a little as he saw the love between them. "All right, Nuala, for you I'll do anything. Dhahabu..." He glanced back to him. "If you are who you say you are, I will owe you an apology. But if you aren't..."

He left the threat hanging as he nodded to Nuru. "Come on, I'll take you to my father."

The lion shook his blond mane and then began padding south, Nuru scampering behind him. Dhahabu and Tembo were quick to follow, Nuala beside them. As he glanced at her, Dhahabu watched the pride in her eyes for her mate. Looking forward again, he studied Malachi, who was still an enigma to him. He clearly was not what he had first seemed, but a twinge of doubt lingered. The prince of Kiburi only hoped that Adhimu could dispel that doubt at the same time he quelled Malachi's.

* * *

It was nearing midnight, and the sweeping canopy of the African sky was ablaze with the lights of countless stars, each one such a great distance away it could never be reached, yet their light shone as brilliantly as the moon's. Each one, it was said, was a great king of the past, though surely all lions who ever lived had a place there by their sheer number. Each moved in its own path, assured of its place, shifting throughout the night in a complex array, woven slowly together to form an immense symbol of life itself. Each was a goal for which to strive, yet each was unattainable.

They reminded Jahili all too well of his place in life.

The young lion let out a sad sigh and placed his head on his crossed forepaws. This lonely stretch of savanna beneath the stars only served to reflect the state of his heart. He was alone, in all senses of the word—an exile, cut off from the only family he had ever known, and all because he had stood up for what he believed in. Tears filled his brilliant blue eyes.

It was vastly unfair. All he had ever wanted was for his father to love him and be proud of him, but he could not in good conscience earn that love by harming innocent lions. That would not be earning, it would be demeaning himself. And besides, he shouldn't have to earn it, it should come instinctively.

Jahili gouged the earth with his claws in frustration. Yet he knew he could not abandon his father. He had no idea what he would do if he were forced to choose between Kuchinja and his principles, he could not afford to lose either. But he feared he had already lost his father, if he'd ever really had him to begin with. In truth he had lost Kuchinja when Tisho died...

Gazing upwards, the lion cried out, "Why? Why did you leave me, Mother? Why when I've always needed someone, no one was there?"

He broke down then and wept unashamedly into his massive paws that had never seen a fight and held only gentleness. His father would say this was a sign of weakness, but he knew better. To feel such strong and good emotions was a sign of strength of heart. But at the same time it was such a burden...

When his tears had run their course, Jahili lay still, breathing shallowly as he stared morosely at the ground. What was he to do? Where was he to go? No pride would accept him. His only place was with the Wahamiji, but Kuchinja's words still rang in his ears: "You are no son of mine! You will never be useful for anything..."

Suddenly he sat up in shock. What if he could prove his worth, earn Kuchinja's respect?

His mind drew a blank. How could he do this and yet not betray himself? He could not fight Mfalme and his pride.

Then it dawned on him. What if he simply found out information for his father—things that could help him in his conquest? Things that if he delayed in informing Kuchinja long enough would be essentially useless, apparently through no fault of his own?

He pondered further. He could gradually increase the usefulness of the information—but by the time it could result in a successful conquest, the delay would enable Mfalme to have built up enough strength to prevent it. It would take careful managing, walking this line. Jahili swallowed nervously. If either Mfalme or his father found out...

But it was the only way. He had no other options left.

Steeling himself, Jahili swore he would find the wit and nerve to pull this off, to return home yet not deprive Mfalme of _his_ home. Looking up, he searched the sky for the unseen kings.

"I know I've done nothing to deserve this, but please..." He sighed. "Please help me to do this. Guide my paws, let me be the one who carries out your will. And let it lead me to happiness at last."

No answer came, of course, although one star did twinkle brightly.

Jahili watched the stars until high-flying clouds began to fill the sky and mask their light. Then exhaustion at last claimed him. But before he drifted off, he placed one paw on his heart and hoped.

_Somehow...some way..._

_

* * *

_(A/N: More name pronunciation: Wahamiji = wah-hah-MEE-jee, Kuchinja = koo-CHIN-jah, Njaa = nuh-JAH, Tauni = TAW-nee, Kufa= KOO-fah, Vita = VEE-tah, Ushindi = oo-SHIN-dee, Ukware = oo-KWAH-ray, Jahili = ja-HEE-lee, Nuru = NOO-roo, Nuala = noo-AH-lah, Malachi = MAL-uh-kye. And for your information, the names of the Wahamiji are the same as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, with some "handmaidens" thrown in_: _Kuchinja (slaughter), Njaa (famine), Tauni _(_pestilence), Kufa (death), Vita (war), Ushindi (conquest). Blame the Anviliciousness on their father Giza (whose name means darkness). It does make them pretty menacing, especially since at least some of them live up their names.

So the plot thickens. And yes, it should become obvious now that while I am taking and reworking plot elements from both Lion King and Simba's Pride, either by deepening what was done before or taking them in new directions, I am still repeating what went before—though this being a prequel actually makes the movies the repeats. *smirks* Some of you may consider this cheating or being unoriginal, but I was deliberately trying to show how history repeats itself, and that the nature of certain dark personalities would cause schemes to be repeated until they finally succeed. By the same token, what my hyenas did was actually more effective than the trio in the movie, since mine actually killed someone. The fact the movies repeat these same situations is just a sign of those who refuse to learn from the past. Anyway, R/R!)


	5. Chapter 5: To Win a Mate

**Chapter 5: To Win a Mate **

It was early afternoon, and the sun had just passed its zenith. Searing rays beat down upon the rich savanna of Kusini, creating only minimal shadows, and Dhahabu was panting in the heat, the pads of his paws slick with sweat, when at last Malachi brought the party to a halt at the top of a windswept hill.

"There." The young lion cut a proud figure against the sky, muscles tensed and blond mane blown back by the rising breeze. "The dens of Kusini." There was a look in his eyes Dhahabu could not decipher—pride, certainly, but something else as well...the pain of regret, perhaps, for time lost.

The prince of Kiburi padded up to stand beside Malachi and gazed into the valley below. A high hill dominated the hollow, with a series of slate ledges jutting at sharp angles from its sides. Caves and dens opened between the slabs of rock, and outside each one lionesses lounged, enjoying the rare shade the overhangs provided. From the number of them—there had to be at least thirty—it was clear that Kusini was as powerful a pride as Kiburi.

As Nuala, Nuru, and Tembo joined the two lions, Malachi raised his head and let out a surprisingly deep roar, announcing his return to Kusini. Leonine heads rose immediately, and then as lionesses came to their paws, another lion, more large and powerful than Malachi, emerged from a den high among the ledges. Dhahabu's breath caught in his throat.

The lion was fully as large as Mfalme, his pelt a rich golden tan and his mane a deep red. Muscles rippled and flexed as he descended the ledges with casual ease that belied his age. The only sign he was older than he appeared was the streaks of black in his mane and the white on his chin.

Malachi nodded to the lion, then turned to Dhahabu. "That is my father, Adhimu. Now we will find out if you are what you claim to be."

Without another word Malachi moved down the hill toward the valley floor, leaving Dhahabu and the others no choice but to follow.

When Dhahabu and Tembo reached level ground once more, Malachi was already beside Adhimu and in intense conversation. Over Malachi's shoulder Dhahabu could see Adhimu's expression, green eyes narrowed in curiosity but also deep mistrust. At last, as Nuala and Nuru arrived and sat quietly some distance back but still within earshot, Adhimu let out a soft chuff, silencing his son's explanations. Slowly he approached Dhahabu. The prince of Kiburi sat on his haunches and straightened perceptibly, managing to control the shaking of his knees but not the quaking of his heart.

The impressive lion slowed as he reached him, his massive form clearly filled with raw power held in check by an iron will. Adhimu regarded him in chilly silence, the ghost of a snarl hovering on his muzzle. Mustering all his courage, Dhahabu met the other's gaze squarely, pride and confidence filling him, along with trust in his father's words. "Greetings, Adhimu. I have come a long way to meet you."

"So my son has told me." Adhimu's voice was as powerful as his body, deep and booming like a bell. "And why have you come here, Dhahabu?"

The golden lion looked at Adhimu almost apologetically. "I...I have come here to seek a mate, if you will grant me leave, your Majesty."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malachi stiffen in outrage, but his attention was on Adhimu, who only watched him with deceptive calmness. "Now why should I offer one of my lionesses to you?"

"Because I am the son of your dear friend Mfalme, whom you trust greatly." He glanced to Tembo. "My friend Tembo there can vouch for me...an elephant never lies."

Adhimu also looked to the elephant who returned him a gaze of imperturbable challenge. The lion eyed his gleaming tusks and nodded slightly. "I would never deny the honesty of an elephant...but many know this of me, and could use it to their advantage. And there are always exceptions to every species."

Tembo lowered his head slightly, shifting his tusks to a better position. "Do not question my integrity, or Dhahabu's...he tells the truth."

"We shall see." Adhimu turned back to Dhahabu. "Have you no other proof of identity?"

Dhahabu nodded emphatically. "I have my father's scent. He knew you would be wary." The young lion held out his paw.

Adhimu eyed it skeptically for a moment, then lowered his head to sniff. Dhahabu closed his eyes, praying the scent had not faded too much with time. He could feel the king's hot breath stir his fur and tried not to flinch. Then he sensed movement, the muscled lion shifting, as if for a blow. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to open them and see the blow coming. The scent was weak, or Adhimu no longer remembered it. He could envision the claws coming at his face...

When it came it was not a blow at all. A great warmth encircled his neck and shoulders. Was Adhimu preparing to slash his throat? Or strangle him? The warmth remained gentle however, and it was soon followed by a low rumble. A growl? No...a purr...

Dhahabu opened his eyes and was stunned. Adhimu was embracing him!

Looking over the lion's sculpted shoulder, he could see all those watching were as shocked as he, and none more than Malachi. The young lion stared at Adhimu as if he had become a Cape hunting dog before his eyes.

Finally Adhimu broke the embrace and stepped back. All the anger was gone from his expression, replaced by respect and trust. He smiled broadly and laid a paw on Dhahabu's shoulder. "I could never forget that scent. You _are_ Mfalme's son. Welcome to Kusini, Dhahabu."

It was as if a paw that had clenched his heart suddenly let go, allowing it to beat once more. Relief and happiness flooded through Dhahabu, and he smiled back, returning the paw to the shoulder. He looked back at the others...Tembo, now completely unthreatening, Nuru capering around excitedly, and Nuala smiling, her willingness to give him the benefit of the doubt vindicated. Finally he glanced at Malachi. The shock had left his face, transformed now into contrition. Suddenly Dhahabu felt guilty...he had made Malachi appear a fool. But how could the other lion have known he told the truth?

He was about to cross to offer him comfort when Adhimu cleared his throat. "So, Dhahabu, your father thought of my pride when he decided you needed a mate? I am humbled." He looked Dhahabu over, then shook his head ruefully. "I must have been a fool not to see it...your every movement betrays you, everything about you marks you as Mfalme's offspring. You can tell your father I am proud of him, for raising a son like you." He smiled. "So how is that ornery rascal? And your brother and sister? I was there when you were all born, you know."

Head whirling at this turn of events, Dhahabu blinked. His father, an ornery rascal? "He is well, Your Majesty. Getting older, but still strong. And Taraji is now a beautiful lioness...perhaps too beautiful if you know what I mean." Adhimu chuckled. "But as for Sulubu..." Dhahabu's voice dropped. "He...was killed by hyenas when we were cubs."

Behind him he heard Nuala gasp. Slowly the cheerfulness faded from Adhimu's face. "Oh...I am so sorry, Dhahabu, I had no idea...we get very little news down here from other prides."

The prince of Kiburi nodded, managing a small wry smile. "Apparently that works both ways, as my father told me you only had two daughters. He knew nothing of Malachi."

Adhimu hung his head slightly. "There is good reason for that. Even I knew nothing of Malachi for most of his life, and even after that I had no idea he was my son at first."

Dhahabu blinked at him. "But how...?"

"His mother disappeared on a hunt while still carrying him. She gave birth far from Kusini, and died when she ate meat tainted by the humans. After that Malachi was taken in by the humans and imprisoned...he did not manage to escape until he was an adolescent. Luckily he found his way here and we were able to piece the truth together..." He glanced at Malachi with pain in his eyes. "But only after much trouble and heartache..."

Dhahabu stared at Malachi's downcast face in pure sympathy, then looked back to Adhimu. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know..."

Adhimu stayed silent for a moment or two, then shook himself and looked up. "I know. But enough of this gloomy talk. It is clear neither of our prides has had it easy these past years. Perhaps now, working together, we can ensure that our futures will be bright." He rose to his paws. "I do indeed have two daughters, Mahiri and Imani. And I am quite sure one of them will be a perfect match for you." He quirked a brow. "All that remains is to determine which of them that is."

He turned and headed toward the ledges, glancing back over his shoulder and raising his voice. "I will bring them out, Dhahabu, and then we shall see if we can complete your quest."

Dhahabu watched Adhimu ascend the jutting ledges, then slowly turned as he felt another presence by his side. It was Malachi.

"Dhahabu...I am sorry." His voice was low and apologetic. "But there was no way I could know...I had to protect the pride. Especially after being away from it for so long, and then with the trouble I caused here when I first arrived..."

The golden lion shook his head. "Malachi, you have nothing to be sorry for. I am the one who should apologize, I harbored such ill thoughts of you...I thought you were a rogue who had usurped Adhimu, or a rival who would prevent my success. I couldn't see you were only doing what any lion, including myself, would have done in your place. And as for the past, that's what it should remain...the past. I learned that when I lost my brother.

"What matters is that you are here now, and serving your father. I can't imagine what it was like for you, being separated so long..." Gently he butted heads with Malachi, purring softly as all his doubts about the lion disappeared like the morning mist under the heat of the rising sun.

Malachi was surprised, but then with a smile he returned the head-butt. "Thank you for understanding, Dhahabu. I...hope we can be friends someday."

Dhahabu grinned. "Why not now? I don't hold grudges, do you?"

Malachi grinned back. "Nope. Not at all..."

At that moment there was a stirring among the lionesses of Kusini, and both lions' attention was drawn back up the slope. Adhimu stood erect on a ledge, and behind him, two lithe and muscular lionesses were stepping out of the shadows of the cave. Dhahabu froze, eyes trained on the view above him, not even noticing Malachi's sly grin. He only had eyes for the lionesses, waiting until they stepped into the sunlight and he could at last see them clearly...

* * *

Stepping from the rushing waters of a fierce river, Taraji shook herself, spraying the vicinity and leaving her fur ruffled and stiff. Annoyed, she sat on her haunches and applied her tongue to her pelt, working to smooth it down. She winced slightly. Her shoulder was still sore, but the wound the addax cow had given her was healing, leaving the beginnings of a scar, which she had dutifully licked clean during the two days she recuperated within the streambed where she had eaten her fill of the bull addax. At last she had been confident enough of her strength to depart, and had discovered her limp had noticeably improved, to her distinct relief.

Now she was on her way home.

She sighed. She didn't know if she'd found what Dhahabu had told her to find. She was proud of her hunting skills and knew when she returned to Kiburi she would become a member of the hunting party, but her heart remained uneasy about her future. In spite of the numerous animals in the savanna around her, she felt alone and saw only more of the same ahead of her, a life as empty as the desert wasteland...

"I will never be truly happy..." she murmured. Sighing, she looked up morosely at the sun and then rose to her paws and climbed the riverbank. Perhaps something would turn up on the journey home.

Hours later the river was left far behind, and the noonday heat sweltered around the cinnamon lioness. No breeze stirred the grasses, although apparently the wind gusted strongly in the vaults of the sky, for the clouds raced rapidly across the sun, their shadows running across the ground ahead of her like vast wings.

A leopard paused in its tracks to watch Taraji's passing, spotted neck arched curiously, before it returned to its hunt of a warthog mother, tail erect as she led her piglets toward the shade of a towering kigelia tree. Five minutes after the leopard disappeared into the vegetation, loud grunts and squeals arose, accompanied by the yowls of the cat. Then all was silent. There was a flash of an ocher tail, and then the leopard lifted its bloody muzzle to gaze across the landscape, a slice of flesh dangling from its mouth. The Circle of Life had turned once more.

As she drifted northeast in her travels, Taraji both felt and heard her stomach growling and knew she must hunt again. Gazing toward the north, her eyes focused on a shifting in the grass. The longer she watched the more apparent it became...something was approaching, something large. The grass was rustling like a wave upon the sea. She licked her lips and slowly pressed her belly against the ground, disappearing from view. Whatever it was, it would make an excellent meal for her.

Claws unsheathed, the lioness slipped silently toward her unsuspecting prey...

* * *

Stumbling over a hump of earth and his own weary paws, Jahili fell forward with a thud, his muzzle shoved unceremoniously into the dirt. For a moment tears came to his eyes at the unfairness of this, but then he shook himself angrily and rose to his paws, wiping at his face futilely. He glared up at the oppressive ball of the sun, then with a groan continued on through the thick grasses.

He wondered anew why he bothered to go on. He had sworn to himself that he would find a way to earn his father's respect without endangering the Kiburi Pride, but there was little chance of anything, good or bad, happening when he could find no other lions for miles around. He had wandered...first south, then east, putting as much distance between himself and the Majonzi as he could. The Majonzi...what an appropriate name, for it meant grief, and it was the site of his most intense sorrow...

The young lion tried to block out the words of exile and contempt his father had snarled at him and wrenched his thoughts to other things. To his gnawing hunger. He had never been a good hunter, he hated having to kill more than necessary and at any rate was unskilled at cornering prey, more so than even most male lions. He was weak, there was a hollowness in his limbs that frightened him. If he did not find something soon, he was sure he would die.

Finding some well of strength, Jahili pressed on. After two days of traveling with little purpose, he at last resolved to head toward Kiburi. Perhaps somewhere along its borders he would find what he sought: food, shelter, and a chance to implement his plan.

But he was still alone. Even as he drew closer to Kiburi, the savanna remained the sole witness to his despair. Weaving through the grasses, the lion was on the verge of breaking down entirely. His mane was a mess, matted with sweat and mud, his fur had lost its shine, and his eyes were flat and slightly glazed.

Unaware of his surroundings anymore, he moved without caution, snapping twigs and setting the grass around him to swaying. Nothing mattered...nothing mattered...the world had collapsed around him, isolating him. All he could smell was himself, a hornbill somewhere overhead, a meerkat hiding in fear off to his right, and...

He froze.

A lioness.

Just ahead of him, a lioness.

He didn't know whether to roar in joy or hunker down in fear. This close to Kiburi, as a rogue, he would be run out...perhaps even killed. What had he been thinking, coming here...?

His weakness of body decided the matter for him. Unable to run or roar, he stayed where he was, fervently hoping the wind was blowing the other direction...

* * *

Taraji was almost upon her prey when the wind shifted, bringing the scent of a male lion to her nostrils. She slowed, cursing inwardly at her ill luck and unsure of what to do. He had most likely caught her own scent by now, but what would he do about it? Would he attack her? Or worse...

She cringed slightly...when her mother had explained about her season, she had also stressed the danger of wandering males who would take advantage of receptive females. Luckily her season had ended that morning. But that would only prevent her from bearing cubs...it would not keep this lion from forcing himself on her.

Trembling, she knew her only chance was to somehow convince the lion that she was unavailable. Trying to instill confidence in her voice, she called out, "Who are you? Show yourself!"

* * *

At the sound of the lioness's voice Jahili's heart plummeted. He was finished. She would never believe he meant no harm to Kiburi...or would she? Glancing down at himself, he realized he would not present a threatening image. Perhaps there was still hope.

He swallowed. "I...I mean you no harm, miss. I am lost and alone, and dying for something to eat. Can you help me?"

Slowly he stepped forward, pushing the last stalks of grass aside to stand shaking before the lioness, head bowed in submission. Then he lifted his gaze, blue eyes rising to meet those of Taraji...

* * *

In the same instant, four pairs of eyes met each other, and the entire savanna seemed to hold its breath.

Head lifted toward the sky, Dhahabu could not move a muscle as the daughters of Adhimu stepped into the light. One was a bright gold with pale blue eyes, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the other, to her cream pelt and her muscled limbs. Then he stared into her eyes...they were an intense green and seemed to pierce his heart. Suddenly her soft chest fur and her haunches meant nothing, they did not exist. All he could see was the intelligence, emotion, and power shining in her eyes. At once he knew she was the one. She would be his mate. Nothing would stand in his way...

Perched on the high ledge of Kusini, Mahiri felt her skepticism fading away. When her father had told her and Imani about the young prince from a distant pride who had come to claim one of them as a mate, Imani had been overjoyed at the prospect, but she had been wary. Who was this lion? What right did he have to think he could sweep one of them off her paws and take her away from all she had ever known? And who was to say he was even worth the risk? He would most likely be the same as all her other would-be suitors—the mind of a cub in a body raging with testosterone...

But now that she could see him, her doubts were lessening. She still held distrust, but she was shocked by how handsome he was, and not in some rugged, conceited way. There was something self-effacing about his expression, as if this lion—Dhahabu, was it?—did not know his own worth. And then she saw his eyes, a soft gray, filled with gentleness and a deep honesty. At that moment she knew that, while appearances were often deceiving, and she was not about to leap into this blindly, if any lion might be worthy of her, it was this one...

His tired eyes barely open, Jahili finally met the gaze of the lioness before him—and instantly his weakness faded into the background. Soft light brown fur ruffled in the breeze, shapely muscles shifted, and her eyes...her sapphire-blue eyes sparkling with fear changing now to concern, their depth pulling him in, claiming him. He had no idea who she was, all he knew was that the emptiness in his heart had been dulled, and that he needed to know her. He sensed she could bring the happiness he sought...

As the lone lion stepped out of his hiding place amongst the savanna grasses, Taraji's mouth hung open. He was not at all what she expected—an image of abject misery, mane and coat muddy and sweaty, paws faltering with every step, head hung low...there was no way he could be a threat. Her heart ached, wondering how he had ended up in such a sorry state, and she knew then and there that though she had no obligation to do so, she would help him, somehow. But as the mahogany lion lifted his head, she was stunned anew by his eyes, as blue as her own and filled with a softness mixed with inner pain...a pain she felt compelled to assuage...

* * *

A soft gasp came from Imani's throat, causing Mahiri to turn and look at her sister with a raised eyebrow. The golden lioness was staring in unabashed admiration at the young lion waiting below them. "He's gorgeous!" she gasped.

Mahiri rolled her eyes and looked at Adhimu in time to see him return the same expression. Imani was an incurable romantic, and both of them had given up on her long ago. The powerful lion chuckled. "Well we know what you think, Imani...what about you, my dear?"

Looking back down at Dhahabu once more, Mahiri shrugged, even as her heart beat a little faster. "Well he certainly looks nice enough...but then so did all the others."

Imani turned on her. "Mahiri, what is wrong with you? He's _so_ much better-looking than them...what a lion!" She looked back at Dhahabu, licking her lips.

Mahiri laughed outright. "Perhaps. But you know that's not all that counts...it's clear he's strong..." Her eyes sized up Dhahabu's muscled forelegs and deep chest. "...but I want to know his mind and his heart."

Adhimu gave his daughter an appraising look. "And what did you have in mind to determine that?"

The cream lioness smiled knowingly. "A test, of sorts...something that will measure everything about him, not just his brawn. Any lion can have that...I want to know what makes him special. And what I'm thinking about should do the job."

The king of Kusini smiled slyly. "Now I know why I was right to name you 'clever'. So what exactly is your plan?"

Mahiri stepped close to her sister and her father. "Well, it goes something like this...if Dhahabu wants me to be his mate, then he's going to have to win me..."

* * *

Taraji moved a pace closer to the subdued lion, speaking softly. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you...what's your name? And what happened to you?"

The lion cleared his throat—he had not spoken in several days. "I...I am Jahili. I...have been wandering ever since I was outcast by my pride, and I have been unable to find food. That's why I'm so weak..." It was not exactly a lie, only an omission. And the simple truth was enough for now. It didn't matter that he had been outcast from a group of rogues bent on another pride's destruction...if he expected any help, it would be better to let this lioness think he was only one of the many young males driven out at the age of two.

"Oh...I'm sorry to hear that." The lioness stepped closer still. "But it's all right now...I'll help you find food." She smiled then, warm and caring. "My name is Taraji."

Jahili stiffened. Taraji...Mfalme's daughter?

It was too much for him. The weakness, the hunger, and now this shock pushed him over the edge...

Taraji watched in amazement as the lion's eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the ground in a faint. In the sudden quiet, she murmured to herself, "He must be weaker than I thought..."

Leaning down, she pushed her head beneath his belly, just behind his forelegs, and lifted. Despite his malnourishment the lion was still muscled and weighed a great deal, but Taraji was strong. In moments she had worked him across her neck and shoulders until he hung across her back, tail, mane, and paws draping against the ground.

Then she rose, glanced around, and proceeded through the grass toward a dark blotch of rock against the horizon, rising beside the shimmering movement marking a stream flashing between the blades. She would take him to shelter, and then go hunting once more. All thoughts of her pride fled...they could wait. This lion Jahili needed her help, and she would not rest until he had recovered his health.

* * *

When at last Adhimu and his daughters descended the ledges, Dhahabu's nerves were almost frayed. His heart raced and his breath was short. He had to know what that discussion had been about, up there before the den. What had been decided? How would he make sure the cream-colored lioness would be his mate?

He glanced at Malachi and at last saw his sly smile. "What's that for?"

Malachi chuckled. "They're something, aren't they?" He smiled up at the two lionesses in pride. "Either one is worthy of being your mate."

"Yes..." Dhahabu murmured, although Malachi could still hear him. "But there's only one that I want..."

Finally the three lions reached the ground and paced toward the waiting prince. As they drew near, Dhahabu could see both lionesses were beautiful, a prize for any lion...but still he only had eyes for one. He was puzzled by the look on her face. While the golden lioness was giving him a seductive look, the other regarded him with eyes that reflected curiosity and judgment.

"Dhahabu." The young lion turned at Adhimu's voice. "These are my daughters...Imani and Mahiri." He nodded first to the golden lioness, then the cream one. At once Dhahabu looked to the lioness who had so enchanted him. So this was Mahiri...

He finally tore his gaze away and looked at the king of Kusini. "But...how do you wish me to choose?" He knew what his father had said, to trust his heart, and his heart chose Mahiri, but Adhimu might have other plans.

Adhimu sighed. "I wish I could let you follow your heart, Dhahabu, but my daughters have requested a test to see what sort of lion you are, and to determine who will be your mate."

Dhahabu felt as if his blood had stopped flowing in his veins. "What sort of test?"

The golden-tan lion nodded to Mahiri. "You will have to enter a combat with Mahiri...if you win, she is yours. If you lose, your mate shall be Imani."

Slowly the prince of Kiburi's heart sank. He regarded Mahiri with extreme trepidation and reluctance. How could he fight her, here before her father and the entire Kusini Pride? And how could he hurt the lioness he wanted as his mate? But if he did not, he would lose her and be forced to choose Imani. What a cruel choice!

He licked his dry lips. "I..."

"Your Majesty." Tembo stepped forward. "I do not think this is wise. You are forcing Dhahabu to play his principles against his heart."

Adhimu nodded slowly. "But then that is a fair test of the lion he is, is it not? To know what he will choose, the expediency of violence to get his own way, or the strength of his principles, even if it will mean something his heart does not wish..."

Deeply troubled, the elephant turned away, unable to dispute this logic.

Trying to still his heart, Dhahabu turned to Adhimu. "I cannot turn away without knowing what I would do, how I would prove myself. I...will fight her."

An audible gasp came from the watching lionesses of Kusini. But most shocked of all was Mahiri. She stared at Dhahabu, eyes mirroring her disbelief. But as she peered into his morose face and his dejected eyes, something in her expression changed...a gleam of respect entered her eyes.

She spoke then, in a soft, husky voice that sent a shiver down Dhahabu's spine. "Then it is agreed. We will fight."

Dhahabu was rooted to the spot as Adhimu, Malachi, Tembo, and all the other members of Kusini spread out to form a vast circle, leaving him alone in the center of the rolling verdure with the lioness he wished to spend his life with...and the one he must now fight for that privilege. As she backed several yards away to give both of them room to move, tears stood in his eyes. But this was how it had to be. It was not what he had wanted, but Mfalme had not said it would be easy...

Trying to conceal the pain in his heart, Dhahabu slowly unsheathed his claws and lowered his head...

* * *

The savanna seemed to go silent as the two combatants circled each other, gauging, testing, considering strengths and weaknesses. Dhahabu was clearly half-hearted about it, but Mahiri was not. Her eyes were narrowed, her hackles raised as she stalked through the whispering grass, cream pelt shining in the sun with a dazzling radiance. The prince watched her warily, even as he too kept pace, making sure to stay a safe distance away. He still could not see how she could do this to him...he understood the reasoning, but surely her emotions must be warning her against it...

A subtle shift in her scent warned him...it became thicker as her adrenaline flowed through her. Dodging instinctively aside, he heard her yowl of outrage as the lioness swept past him, her sudden leap carrying her several feet beyond. Whirling, she raced through the vegetation, muscles flexing as she increased her speed. For a moment he only stood frozen, entranced by her lithe grace. Then his first instinct was to flee, but he immediately brushed it aside. He could not be a coward. He had to do it.

Pain filling his heart, he crouched down in the grass and sprang...

His massive form launched forward, landing atop the lioness's forequarters and bearing her to the ground. In an instant Mahiri was grappling with him, using his shock and greater weight against him. Throwing him off balance, she slammed her head into his chest, knocking him back. As the air rushed out of his lungs, the lioness bore him down, her hind legs coming up to rake his underbelly and her forepaws slashing at his chest.

Crying out, Dhahabu reacted without thinking, slamming one massive paw into Mahiri's head. Stunned, she fell away, letting him rise to his paws, blood dripping from his chest and stomach. The wounds were not deep, but they stung. The pain and the trickling sensation in his fur brought the reality of the fight home, and he knew he could not afford to continue this way. He must give it his all, no matter the cost. He could not lose Mahiri, or his pride...

As he mustered his strength, the lioness rose from the grass, shaking her head vigorously. She too was bloody, from a series of claw marks down her cheek that he didn't even know he'd given her. For a moment she only stared at him. Then she tensed herself and leaped again.

This time Dhahabu was ready for her. A collective gasp came from the watching lionesses as he too leaped and slammed into Mahiri full force. The two fell together as the prince slashed at her chest. They had barely landed on the ground again when Mahiri swiped at his unprotected face.

Flinching, he once again found himself on his back as the lioness pounced on him, jaws wide as she bit at his shoulder, knowing well enough to avoid his neck, protected as it was by his thick mane. Stiffening his powerful forelegs, he kept the lioness at bay, shoving her away from his flesh. At that point he knew there was no turning back...

No longer able to resist, he gave in to his instincts. He snarled, and then the snarl became a deep, furious roar. For a split second he saw the fear in Mahiri's eyes, and then that too was gone...all thought left him, there was only the surge of adrenaline as he once again bashed her across the face. This time he followed through, flipping her onto her back and pinning her in place.

His muscles tensed, his paws clenching around her shoulders. He bared his fangs, then bit into her only inches from her jugular. She howled in pain, but nothing penetrated Dhahabu's consciousness...he had become a killer, intent only on spilling blood. He bit again, and again, even as Mahiri fought back, slashing and clawing at his chest and shoulders. But Dhahabu was much stronger than she was, and soon had her forelegs pinned. She was defenseless...

Snarling again, he reared back, preparing to strike the killing blow...

Suddenly an immense roar broke through the cloud of aggression. Jerking his head up, Dhahabu's eyes locked on the form of Adhimu, watching from the edge of the circle, a fatal warning blazing in his eyes. All at once the young lion turned back, staring in shock and horror at what he had done...the blood flowing from her shoulder...and coating the fur of his paws...

All the anger was gone. Trembling, he looked Mahiri in the eyes. "I'm so...sorry. I never meant—I can't do this. It's wrong."

He hung his head—and was stunned anew when Mahiri lifted a paw from his now slack grip and knocked him away again. Even as he fell, Dhahabu realized he had lost...he had not been able to fight without becoming a killer. Yet he also felt that Mahiri's blow this time had lacked the force it had before...

Soon he found himself on his back for the third time, the cream lioness perched on his broad chest, staring down at him as blood clotted on her neck and ran down her foreleg. She narrowed her eyes at him. "And why can't you fight for me? Am I not good enough for you?"

His jaw hung open at these unexpected words. "No...that's not it at all. You are too good for me...I don't deserve you. I can't even find the guts to fight for you without causing you terrible injuries...I'm sorry, but I can't do this. Not anymore. I thought I could, but..." He swallowed hard.

"I can't harm a lioness, especially one like you. I...concede. And now that you know me for the coward I am, you can do what you will with me. Kill me, or send me away, or give me Imani as my mate. I would rather you be happy, then with someone like me."

Tears flowing, he closed his eyes and waited. _I'm sorry Father...I tried..._

Nothing happened for a long moment. Then at last he felt Mahiri's breath on his cheek...followed by a gentle lick! Dhahabu's eyes popped open, and he gazed up into green eyes shining with respect.

Slowly Mahiri climbed off of him. She swayed for a moment before she steadied herself. Then she gazed around at all the spectators. "The test is over, the battle won. I have learned what I needed to know...and I choose Dhahabu as my mate."

At this the lionesses of Kusini burst into amazed conversation. Tembo, Malachi, and Nuala looked utterly confused...but Adhimu only nodded slowly, his anger changed to a smile.

Mahiri moved back to Dhahabu and nuzzled his side, pushing her head against his foreleg as an offer to support him. The lion groaned as he rose to his paws, his eyes dazed as he regarded her. "But...why? I nearly killed you...and I lost the fight..."

The lioness hushed him. "But you didn't kill me...you were able to resist your instincts and hold back. That's one of the reasons I chose you. And you didn't lose...you won."

Dhahabu blinked. "What do you mean?"

Sighing, Mahiri sat on her haunches and began licking the wounds on her neck and chest. "You must understand the nature of the test," she explained between licks. "I wanted to know what sort of lion you were...and you have shown me." She paused and lifted a paw to stroke his cheek. "You would not fight at first, even though you had to in order to win me as a mate. That proves you are not like other lions, who fight for the joy of killing.

"When my father roared, and you realized what you had done, you showed mercy on me. And then when I pinned you, and you still could have fought back, you didn't. What you said...how you cannot hurt a lioness. And the way you accepted defeat, even though you would then be mates with Imani. But most of all, how you would sacrifice your happiness for mine." She smiled softly. "All of these are traits I would want in a mate. They mark you as a lion with a noble heart..."

The lioness rose and moved painfully to his side. Nuzzling him again, she whispered in his ear. "To lose is to win, Dhahabu...and you have won."

Dhahabu's eyes widened in disbelief...he had won? She...would be his mate? His heart pounded in his chest, and he barely noticed that Adhimu was moving their way, a meerkat running alongside, trying to keep up. He only had eyes for Mahiri...

"Dhahabu...you have won. I was afraid for a moment there that I would have to do something drastic to break you out of your instincts. But you came to your senses and proved you are Mfalme's son in heart as well as blood. Although it will disappoint Imani..." He chuckled and glanced back at his other daughter, who was pouting on a boulder. "Mahiri will be your mate. I have brought a healer here to tend to your wounds. After that, I will leave you to get to know one another. Congratulations."

He nodded to the meerkat, who scampered forward, tiny paw plunging into a small pouch around her neck. She hurried to the two lions, climbing Mahiri's foreleg to sit on her shoulder blade, within easy reach of the deep wound Dhahabu had given her. He winced, watching the healer apply a strange-smelling paste, but then his gaze returned to Mahiri.

His mate. She was his mate...

* * *

Beneath the sweltering sun, the river of Kiburi wound across the land, shimmering as it rippled over its stony bed. Widening as it flowed westward, it soon opened into a calm expanse dotted with the ridged backs of lazing crocodiles, trailing long strands of algae as they lay in wait for the desperate wildebeests to come to quench their thirsts, despite the risk.

Standing atop a hill, Kuchinja smirked. _Oh yes, the wildebeest will come to the river...but not of their own will, and at much greater risk than they expect..._ He chuckled. "And they will not be the only ones at risk."

Beside him Njaa clenched his jaw and shot him a worried, tense glance. "And what is that supposed to mean, Kuchinja?"

Eyes narrowed angrily, the gray lion let out a soft growl. "It means exactly what it sounds like, brother...we will teach Mfalme whose lionesses he claims..."

Njaa sighed. "Brother, while I know we must do this if we wish to reclaim our lands, I cannot condone such violence to innocent lionesses—we don't have to be barbaric about this."

"And why not?" Kuchinja's fiery gaze burned into the golden lion. "Mfalme brutally murdered our father! We have every right." His voice dropped as he looked out over the wildebeest herd grazing below. "We have every right..." he repeated.

Njaa hung his head, his expression morose. "Yes...I know. And for what Mfalme did, he must be punished. But this still does not set well with me..."

"Nor with me," Tauni murmured.

Kuchinja snorted. "Fear not, brothers, I wouldn't dream of asking you to do something that would offend your sensibilities. No...I have a simple task for you, and for Ushindi as well." The massive lion regarded the wildebeest. "Drive them into the river...deprive Mfalme of his largest herd."

Njaa nodded. "That we can do." Glancing at Tauni and Ushindi, he led the way down the hillside.

Once they were out of earshot, Kuchinja turned to his remaining siblings. "Ah...Kufa, Vita, my dark brethren. You shall join me on a little visit to the dens of Kiburi...Mwoga tells me Mfalme is on patrol. Let us teach him not to leave his pride so...vulnerable."

Kufa and Vita returned his fiendish smile, eyes alight with bloodlust.

* * *

Resting her head on her paws, Malkia let her eyes roam across the savanna, disinterest and boredom having taken up residence in her this day. Lying as she did just outside the Kiburi dens, she could see for miles around, but there was nothing to see. Only the river, and the wildebeest herd, and a few stray birds in the sky. Sighing, she eyed the tawny humps in the grass all around her that marked where the lionesses of Kiburi lay. Seeing them so content brought back so many memories...of lazy days when Dhahabu was a cub...when Sulubu was alive.

She squeezed her eyes shut in pain.

How she missed him. And Dhahabu too, now grown up and seeking a mate. Everything had changed so much, so fast. It made her yearn for the past...for their cubhoods, but even before that, for the days of her youth, when she had first met and fallen deeply in love with Mfalme, amidst the tumultuous times surrounding the death of Giza...

Malkia's thoughts dwelt on that terrible day when Giza had beaten her...and then Mfalme had come and fought him. It had been a day much like this one...beautiful, full of promise, and beyond the reach of cruelty and terror, or so it had seemed...

Suddenly uneasy, the queen lifted her head and stared into the distance. She watched the crocodiles stir restlessly, the clouds run before the wind, and then—

The lionesses around her gasped and cried out as one, at the same time Malkia herself saw the billowing clouds of dust filling the air where the wildebeest herd had once been. The queen leaped to her paws and pushed through the suddenly milling lionesses to see more clearly. And then came the bellowing of the wildebeests and the rumbling of hooves as all the animals flowed like a massive wave toward the river, heedless of the danger the crocodiles and the deep water posed.

Just as Malkia was about to call out to form a line and try to drive the herd back, her voice caught in her throat. She could see three male lions, forcing the wildebeest on. And beyond them three more, headed in her direction, anger burning in their eyes...and the largest of them all was terrifyingly familiar...

"No..."

* * *

Growling and snapping at the ignorant beasts running before him, Njaa smirked slightly, knowing how much damage he and his brothers would inflict upon Mfalme's pride. After killing Giza, the loss of a herd was only the beginning of what should be done to him...

Tauni and Ushindi loped alongside of him, the three lions spread out in a line and roaring periodically to keep the wildebeest in a frenzied panic. Heedless of where they were headed, the brindled animals raced across the savanna, down the hill, and poured into the river valley, heads tossing futilely as they ran in headlong flight, in most cases ignorant of what pursued them, pushed on only by those in the rear. Ahead, the water foamed and bubbled as the crocodiles thrashed in anticipation of juicy morsels galloping toward their snapping jaws.

Njaa noticed the lionesses of the pride dashing around on a nearby hill outside the dens, completely thrown by this surprise attack. Chuckling a little, he turned and bit savagely into the hind leg of the nearest wildebeest. The cry it gave was nearly deafening. Ripping free, the wildebeest plunged madly ahead, blood pouring down its leg, and trampled any and all who stood in its way.

Soon the forefront of the herd was dashing into the river. Without warning the nearest crocodiles rose from the water and attacked the wildebeest, jaws closing over necks and shoulders, scaled hides impervious to the pawing hooves. In moments the entire river was churning with twisting bodies, fur, scales, and thick blood staining the water a vivid crimson. As more wildebeest leaped in, they crushed those already in the water beneath them. Still others turned along the banks and tumbled into deeper water downstream, where they sank from view and drowned.

Njaa laughed as he watched the river become a sanguine stream of death and dismemberment, of horns piercing pale underbellies and teeth digging into flesh. Mfalme and his pride would not be hunting wildebeest for some months to come...

* * *

Grinning with a sadistic pleasure, Kuchinja paused for a moment to watch the unfolding slaughter. Then, veins throbbing with a greedy desire for blood, the eldest son of Giza leapt ahead, claws scraping the ground as he moved toward Malkia and the other lionesses, who were transfixed by the ferocious battle for supremacy, the unbalanced turning of the Circle of Life, occurring before their eyes.

Kuchinja reached Malkia's side just as she turned back toward him. As Kufa and Vita appeared behind him, she snarled viciously. "_You..._"

"Why, is this the way you treat your prince, Malkia?" A sly smile touched his muzzle.

"You are no prince—you never were!" The Queen of Kiburi spat in his good eye.

His muscles already coiled tightly, the gray lion snapped at this, his forepaw lashing out to slam into the side of Malkia's head. Reeling back, she fell to her knees, blood running down her forehead and cheek.

"Do not dare to question me...you know very well I am the rightful king here, _not_ Mfalme! These lands belong to me by right of birth!"

Other lionesses gathered close, fangs bared at him and hackles raised. "You presume too much, Kuchinja..." one of them, the head huntress, muttered darkly.

"No, I think I don't presume enough!"

Malkia had managed to stumble to her paws by this time and delivered a look of utter disgust. "You are a disgrace to lionhood, Kuchinja...thinking only with your claws and your sheath. You aren't worth the fur on your back—"

The second blow slammed her to the ground completely. Snarling, two lionesses leaped to Malkia's defense, but at that moment Kufa and Vita pounced, knocking them away from their brother. Kuchinja laughed, a sound laced with such undertones of superiority as to show how truly insignificant he considered these lionesses.

When Malkia could finally look up at him, she was presented with an amused gaze. "Now that is much better...exactly where you belong—_below_ me. You should never have been the queen..." He touched an extended claw to her chin and lifted her head, a condescending look in his eye as she jutted out her chin in brazen defiance.

"And you should never have been the prince...in fact you should never have been born!"

Kuchinja rolled his eye. "As much as I enjoy this parley of insults, Malkia, I have more important tasks before me...such as devising my strategy for taking back what is mine." He looked meaningfully toward the crush of bodies littering the river's bloody surface. "That was a warning...you will never know when, or how, but we will strike. We are the Wahamiji, with a path you will never predict. And soon, one day, these lands will be ours once more."

The lioness who had previously snarled at him seemed to lose her sense of safety at these words, running forward and pouncing atop his back, fangs sinking into his flesh, claws slashing in fury. Instantly Kuchinja whirled, throwing her to the ground. With amazing speed he turned and pinned her, paws pressed against her chest. Kufa and Vita moved between him and the other lionesses to keep them at bay, teeth glinting in their dark muzzles.

"That...was a very foolish mistake...Farate..." Kuchinja's voice was low and sinister. With practiced ease, the gray lion embedded all ten of his foreclaws in the helpless lioness's neck and ripped downward. Blood fountained up, staining his paws and legs. Eyes closed, a shudder of pleasure crossed his face, accompanied by a satisfied smile as the warmth of the lioness's life ran down his fur. At last he leaned down and slowly lapped up the blood, feeling her grow still and cold beneath him.

When he looked up, Malkia's face was pale with horror. The other lionesses' expressions ran the gamut from ill to enraged to terrified. He grinned broadly...this was far better than he had ever hoped or planned.

"Don't have much to say now, do you?" Kuchinja glanced back behind him and spied Njaa, Tauni, and Ushindi moving away from the massacre at the river. Climbing off of the dead lioness, he sent one last barb at Malkia as he moved away, leading Kufa and Vita. "Let that be an object lesson to you...that could have been you, and will be one day soon..."

Chuckling, the now-bloody lion rejoined his brothers, and soon all six were loping across the savanna, splashing through the river, and disappearing into the distance.

For the next ten minutes, the lionesses of Kiburi could do nothing but weep in mourning for their fallen sister, or stare in shock at the carnage before them and in the river below. At last, as Malkia stumbled toward Farate's mangled body, she caught a familiar scent on the breeze, coming from the east, directly opposite of the Wahamiji's path...

"Mfalme..." she whimpered.

A lioness was sent to meet the king. Malkia kept her head low as she waited, bitterness and guilt filling her heart. Then the scent became stronger, and lifting her eyes, she beheld Mfalme's massive form beside the lioness messenger. Both were breathing hard. The Lion King's gaze was steady, but a deep fear lay buried there.

The lion slowly took in the devastation from the hilltop...the river, awash with blood and crocodiles gorging themselves on wildebeest...the murdered lioness. And then he saw the wounds on Malkia's face and moved to her side. Embracing her, he began licking the wounds clean as she cried into his strong shoulder.

When her storm of tears had passed, she peered up to see anger and death in Mfalme's eyes as he again contemplated what had occurred. Then he slowly spoke three words in a voice of barely-restrained fury.

"Who did this?"

Malkia met his stare and could only choke out one word in reply.

"Kuchinja..."

* * *

Jahili moaned softly and slowly opened his eyes as the light bathing his eyelids was cut off by a shadow in the entrance of the cave. Looking up, he spied Taraji dragging in an impala, blood still warm and fresh on its hide. His mouth watered at the sight.

"Well, this was the best I could find, Jahili, I hope it's enough." She turned, saw the expression on his face, and chuckled. "I guess it is..."

Rising to his paws, the weakened lion moved to the carcass and ripped into its flesh, small growls of hunger and pleasure coming from his throat as he buried his muzzle in the antelope's innards. He had already consumed a fourth of the beast's underbelly before he could spare a glance for the lioness. She was watching him, amazed by his ravenous appetite. Shrugging sheepishly, Jahili lowered his bloody muzzle to his repast once more.

Finally, when his stomach was bulging and the impala was nearly gone, the lion sighed and looked gratefully at Taraji. "Thank you for hunting for me...and for bringing me here. I...don't know how I can ever repay you."

The lioness frowned slightly. "There's nothing to repay, Jahili...I would have done this for any lion in need, and I'm sure you would have done the same. Besides, I'm not through yet...days of forced starvation cannot be undone by one meal...you will have to stay here for several more days at least." She chuckled. "Looks like we're stuck with each other."

Jahili stared at her, dumbfounded...spend all that time alone with the daughter of Mfalme...and a beautiful lioness in the bargain...? He lost himself in her eyes, her fur, her muscles...it was some time before he realized her mouth was moving. "Did you say something?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I asked you how you came to be wandering out here...you spoke of being outcast from your pride?"

Uncomfortable, not finding it easy to lie to her, he rubbed the back of his neck with one paw. "Yeah...but it's a long story."

"We have plenty of time," Taraji pointed out.

She had him there. "All right..." He moved to the corner of the cave and lay down with a sigh of contentment, feeling much better than he had a few short hours ago. When Taraji was situated beside him, he lowered his head in thought. The truth should suffice, as long as he left out any names, or references to the two prides. Keeping that in mind, he began to speak.

"My pride was small, mostly my father and uncles...my mother died when she gave birth to me, and my father always blamed me for her death." Taraji looked at him sympathetically, encouraging him to continue. "So I had a very lonely cubhood. I was made to feel like an outsider, not a part of the family. A few of my uncles tried to make me feel wanted, but my father...I know for a fact that he hates me."

Taraji gasped and placed a paw on his. "That can't be..."

"It's true, Taraji. He told me to my face many times how worthless I was...I grew up thinking I would never amount to anything. I was never shown any love by him...I barely existed in my father's mind..." Tears stood in his eyes as his feelings of inadequacy reared up once more.

"That's horrible!" The lioness softly nuzzled him, sending a wave of shock and a small thrill of pleasure through him—he had never been nuzzled, except a few times by his uncle Njaa, and this was quite different...it made his cheek tingle. "But why were you exiled then?"

Jahili's pleasure faded again. "In truth, Taraji, I was always an exile...from myself as well as from my family. My father just made it official. All my life I never really knew love...if not for my uncles I would have been cut off from my heart entirely. Finally, though, my father demanded too much of me. He asked for devotion to the pride without offering anything in return except pain and anguish." He could see the questioning look on her face and shook his head. "The details don't matter and would only make you hate me."

"I could never hate you, Jahili." Taraji's voice was gentle.

The lion gazed mournfully at her. If she only knew the truth...she would despise him more than anything. He sighed. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Taraji." When she gave him a puzzled and indignant look, he shook his head. "Nevermind...I don't want to hurt you, or burden you. Anyway, I refused, and so my father basically accused me of being lazy and useless and told me it was time to strike out on my own. And here I am."

She considered him for a long while. "I can't imagine what it was like for you, growing up in such a loveless environment."

He clenched his paws. "I can barely imagine it myself...it still all seems like some nightmare, but it's one from which I can never awaken...I went through life in a daze. I was like a single tree standing in the savanna, branches reaching desperately for light and rain, but always solitary...or a cloud drifting aimlessly across the sky. Growing up like that probably hurt me in ways I don't even know yet...it was like standing on a hill, roaring at the top of my lungs, but no one could hear me. Even with my uncles, I felt so..."

"Alone."

Jahili, who had been staring at the floor of the cave, looked up to see a distant expression on Taraji's face, one filled with the same longing and loneliness that he had just been describing. He blinked in surprise. "I...get the feeling you know what I'm talking about."

"Yes I do, Jahili...I may have had a loving family, and a large pride who cared for me...but I too have felt alone for some time now."

Shoving his own problems aside, the lion nudged her, as if to say he was there for her if she needed him. Taraji sighed. "It's just that...well, I'm the only daughter of King Mfalme of the Kiburi Pride...my two brothers always overshadowed me because they were male. One would be king, and the other was very strong. So to make up for it, I always tried to be clever and brave, and to be as good a huntress as I could be.

"Then one of my brothers...was killed when we were cubs..." She took a shuddering breath. "And I withdrew for a long time, Jahili. It's not that I don't love Dhahabu...but I was so close to Sulubu, it was like losing a piece of myself. And after that all the focus was on Dhahabu, the future king...and I've become almost obsolete. Alone. Trapped..."

She hung her head, but Jahili carefully lifted it again so he could look into her eyes. "Your life is what you make of it, Taraji...I learned that long ago. We have both been alone...but now that we know there are others like us, that changes everything. You don't have to be trapped any more than I do, you can be whatever you wish to be." He shrugged. "Perhaps my exile was actually a blessing in disguise...freeing me to be myself..."

Pausing, the young lion turned his own words over in his mind, realizing the truth of them was greater than he'd first thought. In spite of everything he loved Kuchinja...but he could not change him anymore than he could be changed by Kuchinja. Whatever happened, whether he was successful in winning his father's respect, he would always be his own lion...and if Kuchinja could not accept that, then perhaps separation, however painful, was the correct course.

When he looked back at Taraji, she was studying him with a frank and open gaze. "It appears we both know a little of what the other is feeling, Jahili. You're right...it is good to know we're not alone after all..."

In the dimness of the cave her eyes shone like the stars as she leaned in close to give him another nuzzle. Purring softly, she leaned back and regarded him with a look that was at once caring and accepting. Then something crossed her face...a realization, one that made her eyes shine brighter, then turn away in widened disbelief. Though he did not know it, the same look was in his own eyes...but he had not yet realized the same feeling, or he could not admit it to himself.

Slightly flushed, he cleared his throat, and so did she. At last Taraji flicked an ear. "It seems we have a lot in common, Jahili."

"I guess we do..."

She laughed a little, and then rose to her paws. "Well, we'll have to see what else we can find in common later...time for me to leave you to rest. I'll bring more food later."

"Yeah..." He watched her muscled form as she passed through the cave entrance. Suddenly Jahili knew that his meeting with Taraji had been more fortuitous than he had first thought. She would certainly offer him much information about the Kiburi Pride, perhaps too much. But he wanted more than that now. He wanted to spend time with her...he wanted to get to know her.

He laid his head on his paws. He wanted to not be alone anymore...

* * *

A sun vermilion was setting into the horizon, sending its rays across the rolling savannas of Kusini and bathing the two lions and the grass around them in varying shades of red and orange. Dhahabu sat on his haunches beside Mahiri, gazing at the wondrous beauty of the land, marveling not only at the sunset but also at how a day that had begun with such anxiety and uncertainty could now be one of such peace and solitude.

After watching the sun for some time, Mahiri at last broke the silence. "So...what do you think of my lands, Dhahabu?"

The young lion smiled. "They are beautiful, Mahiri...just like you."

She blushed, and seemed to take a sudden interest in the ground. Dhahabu watched her, pain still in his eyes as he regarded the leaf-plaster the meerkat healer had made to protect her neck wounds.

As if reading his thoughts, the lioness glanced at Dhahabu's chest and belly, which bore identical plasters. "Are you in any pain?"

He shook his head. "No, your healer did a wonderful job."

Silence reigned once more. Dhahabu thought of Tembo, who was being shown around the lands by Adhimu. He missed his friend...he would have given good advice to help him conquer this attack of shyness. But he was not here, and all the expected pleasantries had already been exchanged.

Sighing, Dhahabu asked the only thing he could think of. "So Mahiri...how has it been for you, growing up in Kusini?"

The lioness smiled. "Very peaceful. Kusini has rarely been threatened, and Father has always been able to protect us when we were. Imani and I had an idyllic cubhood..." She trailed off, frowning slightly. "Except for the time when Malachi returned, of course..."

At this sudden change in her demeanor, Dhahabu quirked a brow. "That's right, Adhimu didn't tell me much about Malachi. What happened with him?"

For a moment he was afraid he had crossed the line, for Mahiri remained deathly quiet. But at last she spoke again. "That...is a long story. To keep it brief...when Malachi first came here, my father saw him as any other rogue, a threat to the pride. But Nuala fell in love with him. Father warned her she could not be with a lion not of this pride, and she promised she would not to protect him. But their love was too strong, and they met again. So Father exiled her."

Dhahabu stared at her raptly. "And Malachi?"

Mahiri sighed. "Things...got complicated. My aunt Tazi trusted Malachi and tried to get him and my father to meet, to see about Malachi joining the pride. But Malachi was too proud to beg, and he knew little of pride life...so he did not come. And then Nuala became pregnant." She hung her head. "She tried to hide it, but Father found out. And because the cub was not his or that of a pride member...he killed it."

Dhahabu gasped. "But that was his grandcub!"

Mahiri nodded solemnly. "No one knew that at the time, though. Then Tazi was killed by some lionesses from a pride Malachi had once been a member of. He tried to stop them. Father thought he had done it. But Imani and I convinced him to listen to Malachi's story. By the time he had explained about his life, the humans who had held him were in Kusini. So Malachi and Father worked together to drive them out. Afterward, they compared notes, and that's when they realized they were father and son."

The prince was stunned. "So that's what Adhimu meant by there being much heartache before the truth was learned...his own grandcub." He sighed. "Well at least he has Nuru now."

Mahiri smiled sadly. "True, but I fear Father will never forgive himself."

Dhahabu gently placed a paw on her shoulder, unsure of her reaction. When she looked at him gratefully, he ventured to pull her against his chest and stroke her cheek. "Forgiving yourself is one of the hardest things to do in this life, it takes time." His eyes fixed on a far-off hilltop, where the last of the sunlight was fading, leaving an evening sky ablaze with stars. "I know that from experience..."

Mahiri looked at him quizzically. "You suffered tragedy, too?"

A vision of Sulubu's mischievous smile flashed before his eyes. "Yes...I lost my brother."

The lioness blinked. "Oh, by the Kings...I'm so sorry, I didn't know..."

Dhahabu wiped away tears and shrugged. "It's all right. Anyway, the pain is less now."

"But it never goes away, does it?" Mahiri observed sagely.

The lion nodded mechanically.

Mahiri gave him a gentle lick on the cheek. "You listened to me...now I can listen to you, if you care to tell me."

Dhahabu turned, eyes bright with gratitude. Then he began to speak, stuttering and struggling to find the right words to encapsulate his emotions. He knew he would fail, but he had to try, for Sulubu and for Mahiri, too, who needed to know what made him who he was...

By the time he had finished, Mahiri was in tears and was cradling his head on her shoulder. He too was weeping as she brushed back his mane with one paw. He'd thought he'd gotten over it, but the pain was as fresh and searing as it had been that day in Kivuli. He knew now it always would be...

Mahiri nuzzled him softly. "Dhahabu, you don't need to blame yourself anymore. Sulubu loved you very much, and it was his choice to give his life for yours. That doesn't alter in any way your love for him, or his for you." She gazed deeply into his eyes. "You have a gentle heart, Dhahabu...I know now more than ever how right I was to choose you. We belong together..."

Closing his eyes, the prince nuzzled into the curve of her neck. Sharing the pain had helped...he would never have wanted to burden her, or seem like a pathetic weakling, but now this had brought them closer together. Smiling through his tears, he licked her neck, discovering dried blood in her fur. In moments he was grooming her.

Mahiri returned the favor, cleaning blood off of his face. "Thank you..." he murmured. A warmth began in him, growing in his heart as he purred deeply. It was a feeling he'd never felt before, an unfulfilled longing which increased dramatically with each touch of her rough tongue on his fur.

Her purr soon joined his...and then Dhahabu sniffed the air. It held a beautiful scent, just like Taraji had on that fateful day, only stronger. His breath quickened.

"Uh, Mahiri..." His voice was a trifle nervous.

"Hmm?" She eyed him languorously.

"Is...is it time?"

She raised an eyebrow suggestively. "What would you do if I said it wasn't?" she said teasingly.

A look of horror crossed his face...her scent, overpowering as it was, had stimulated him overwhelmingly. "You _wouldn't_!"

Mahiri laughed coyly. Then a fond smile appeared. "No, I wouldn't. I promised I'd be your mate..." She leaned close and whispered in his ear. "...in _every_ sense of the word."

Dhahabu's eyes widened further as she licked his cheek, lingering sensuously, before nuzzling him once more. Both of them began purring in tandem, rumbling like the thunder of an approaching storm. The last of the sun's dying light washed across Mahiri's face, reflecting in her sparkling eyes. She in turn could not take her eyes off Dhahabu, his mane catching the light in its folds and layers, some strands shining like pure gold, the fiery luminescence rippling across the hair, his face lost in shadow. He seemed mysterious...yet already she felt she knew him, knew his soul.

The prince could sense this in her expression, and echoed the sentiment. As the sun faded from view, leaving them in darkness, his heart burned with love. All he could see was the intense power and beauty in her eyes. United with her by tragedy and emotion, he at last achieved a sense of being wholly alive...the emptiness that had existed since Sulubu's death had been filled.

The two lions rubbed cheeks, marking each other as extensions of themselves. Then Dhahabu gifted her with a lick to her muzzle, followed by a tender kiss.

Mahiri's smile broadened, and Dhahabu could feel himself rising to the occasion. But this instilled a sudden worry in him. He pulled back a little and regarded her uncertainly.

In a seemingly mystic connection, the lioness knew what he was thinking and caressed his scarred shoulder. "Don't worry," she whispered. "It's my first time, too..."

Embarrassed yet reassured, Dhahabu pressed against her side as the two mates descended the hill to a small grove of trees. Their lashing tails slid along underbellies and across inner thighs before intertwining. Their scents mixing, Dhahabu and Mahiri entered the glade and disappeared into the obscuring, seductive shadows...

* * *

Those three days with Mahiri were the most memorable of Dhahabu's young life. He experienced things he had never dreamed possible, and his knowledge grew by leaps and bounds. In the few moments he was able to catch his breath and escape the pheromones long enough to think, he discovered a joy of such purity and intensity that he could not describe it. He only knew it would be burned into him forever...

His emotions were running rampant. There was pleasure certainly, more to spare than he knew what to do with, but it was more than that...it was love, simply that. With each hour that passed, his love for her strengthened.

By the end of the third night, he knew instinctively that the bond they had forged would bear fruit—cubs as well as greater emotion. The roars he released were thus not only of pleasure and dominance, but also of sheer exuberance and happiness.

At last it ended. Mahiri slept with a blissful smile on her face, tail tuft flicking against his side. Dhahabu lay beside her, an expression of shock and excitement frozen on his face. Lying on his back, massive paws curled up onto his still heaving chest, the young lion gazed up at the stars and thanked the Kings for bringing him to this place and time. And thoughts of the Kings naturally led him to thoughts of Mfalme. Smiling, he glanced at Mahiri and pictured the day he would bring her home to Kiburi.

"Dad...you'll be proud of me..."

* * *

(A/N: Not much to say here, except to let you know a few pronunciations: Ad-HEE-moo, ih-MAH-nee, muh-HEER-ee. Also, the entire family of Kusini, as well as the story of what happened to Malachi, was the creation of my mother, who had also played Mahiri way back when on the old Lion King. org RP board and wrote the tale of how Malachi and Nuala got together. Sadly I don't think it exists online anymore, though I can look for it. It's also something of a bittersweet memory, seeing as I lost my mother to cancer in 2001. Still, I'll always have this to honor her. R/R!)


	6. Chapter 6: Siege

**Chapter 6: Siege**

Tembo watched with an odd mixture of solemnity and excitement as Dhahabu and Mahiri approached with tails wound together, descending the hillside to meet Adhimu, Malachi, Nuala, and Imani. As he gazed at the massive lion, who now walked with a greater confidence in his stride, his heart swelled with pride for his friend and prince. And from the expressions he and Mahiri wore, he had also gained a mate, Tembo thought wryly.

The elephant passed his trunk across Dhahabu's back as he stepped up beside him, and the lion lifted his golden-furred face to smile gratefully up at him. Then both of them returned their attention to Mahiri, who was embracing Adhimu tearfully.

"Father...I will miss you so much..." the lioness whispered.

Adhimu nodded, his maned head pressed into her shoulder. "As I will miss you, my daughter...but the Circle waits for no lion, all must move ahead and cannot look back. And if your gaze reaches far enough back, you will find the seeds of the future, you will encircle your path and return to where you are destined to be. All things must change, Mahiri. But you will find happiness with Dhahabu, I am sure of it." He smiled and pulled back so he could look into her eyes. "Besides, there is nothing to say we cannot visit one another. The distance is not that considerable."

Mahiri wiped her eyes and smiled a little. "You're right, Father...and I love Dhahabu with all my heart." At this Tembo heard a soft sigh from beside him, and turned to see Dhahabu watching her longingly, passion and love burning in his gaze. Tembo had never seen its likeness or equal—and it lent the young lion a maturity and majesty he had lacked before.

"It's just so hard to say good-bye..." Mahiri was saying.

"I know...I know..." Adhimu gently caressed his daughter's cheek. "But you will have a legendary future, I am sure. Great things lie ahead for my friend Mfalme and his pride. I am only glad we can play a part in that, however small." He embraced her once more, then nodded toward her sister and brother.

As Mahiri head-butted Malachi and gave Imani an emotional nuzzle, Adhimu turned to Dhahabu and offered him a massive paw, which the prince clasped warmly. Each of them held intense respect in their eyes as they regarded each other. "Dhahabu, all I can say is I wish you luck, Mahiri is quite a pawful." He chuckled ruefully.

"Don't I know it..." Dhahabu looked at Mahiri and smirked slightly.

"You came to find a mate, and succeeded...but you also gave to us hope that the lands will be ruled with honesty and justice. And with Mahiri by your side, you cannot fail. The joining of our prides will bring peace." The king of Kusini nodded emphatically.

Dhahabu blushed. "I hope I can fulfill everyone's faith in me. I have large pawprints to fill."

"No, you have large pawprints to make." Adhimu smiled. "However much you may wish it, you are not your father. No lion can be another. What you will be is your own choice, Dhahabu, and will result in you shaping your own destiny, leaving your own mark on this world."

The young lion fell silent, stunned by this possibility. Adhimu placed his paw on Dhahabu's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. Then he turned toward Tembo and Mahiri, who were now in quiet conversation about the route to Kiburi, leaving Dhahabu to face Imani, Malachi, and Nuala.

"Well." He swallowed uncomfortably and looked at Imani. "I hope you don't feel any ill will toward me, Imani...you are a beautiful lioness who I am sure will find a wonderful mate...it just wasn't me, my heart belongs to your sister."

Imani pouted a little, then smiled winsomely. "It's all right, Dhahabu, Mahiri deserves you. Besides, now this gives me all the more incentive to find a mate as handsome and charming as you!"

Malachi chuckled as Dhahabu blinked in disbelief. "Dhahabu, my friend, pay her no mind, her hormones are running wild." Imani gave him an indignant look. "But she is right, you and Mahiri belong together, I can see it in your eyes. I am sorry I ever doubted you." The golden tawny lion pulled Dhahabu into a rough embrace.

Tears in his eyes, Dhahabu smiled. "It's all right, Malachi...you have nothing to be sorry for. Mahiri told me of your past...and that explains so much. I am sorry for what you have suffered, but now you have a bright future. I hope to see you in Kiburi someday, for you to visit me."

"You can count on that," Malachi answered without hesitation.

Beside him, Nuala nodded, and Dhahabu regarded her seriously. "And thank you for believing in me when no one else would, Nuala."

The lioness leaned her head against Malachi's shoulder. "No thanks are necessary, Dhahabu...I believed once before, when no one would trust my mate...and I would do so again for another lion who has the same gentleness as Malachi."

The four of them were nuzzling and offering final good-byes when Adhimu, Mahiri, and Tembo at last rejoined them. "It is nearly midday, Dhahabu...you should be heading home now," the king offered.

Dhahabu nodded. "I have been away long enough as it is...your lands are beautiful, but I miss my home."

Adhimu took his paw one last time. "Take good care of my daughter."

The prince looked at Mahiri, her cream pelt shining in the sunlight, her eyes glowing with a fire equally brilliant. "Believe me, Adhimu, I won't have any problem doing that."

Adhimu smiled and then stepped back beside Malachi, Imani, and Nuala. "May the Great Kings guide you on a safe journey home, Dhahabu."

As the young lion joined Tembo and Mahiri and began climbing the hill out of Kusini, Adhimu let out a soft chuff. As one, the lionesses of the pride roared, offering their own blessing. At the sudden noise, the cub Nuru burst out of one of the dens and began scampering around in the grass. "Bye, Aunt Mahiri! Bye Prince Dhahabu! You better come back soon, or you'll have to deal with _me_!"

Dhahabu's laugh joined with Adhimu's. As the prince looked back he saw the king had moved to his grandson and grabbed him by his scruff, tossing him up into his mane. There the cub perched proudly, as if his grandfather were his throne, and waved one paw wildly.

At last the three travelers reached the top of the hill and swept one last look across the breathtaking panorama of Kusini and the distant forms of the pridemembers below. Then they turned their faces to the north and passed over the crest of the hill, and all was lost from view.

Dhahabu looked to Mahiri and saw her expression, still fraught with loneliness. "It will be all right, Mahiri...you will see them again. And you will love Kiburi as much as I love Kusini."

The lioness nodded. "I hope so, Dhahabu. And since it is your home, I don't see how I could not." Purring, she nuzzled him, and he returned a soft lick to her ear, tugging gently.

Tembo cleared his throat and gave them an amused look. "Am I going to have to chaperone you two all the way to Kiburi?"

Both lions laughed out loud, easing the tension, nervousness, and the sorrow of parting, leaving only a sense of camaraderie. Tembo grinned and winked at Dhahabu, causing the lion to butt his head into the elephant's leg. He pretended to be mortally wounded. "How could you, Dhahabu...your own friend!"

Dhahabu laughed again and ran, Mahiri at his side, as Tembo began chasing them northward, a look of feigned fury in his eyes.

* * *

Taraji opened her eyes and yawned loudly. Smiling down at Jahili's sleeping form beside her, she marveled at how quickly he had recovered, once she had been able to offer him a steady supply of meat. It was now the third day since she had found him and decided to nurse the weakened lion back to health. In that time, she had managed to teach him enough hunting skills for him to survive until she could return another day.

For she did have to return to Kiburi, the lionesses and Mfalme would be wondering where she had gone, and Dhahabu was due to return soon with his new mate. Yet she also knew she must see Jahili again. When she was with him, she felt more alive than she had in a long time. Part of it, she knew, was the hunting, finding food for the young lion and aiding him in learning to do it for himself.

But there was more than that...that was what she had realized that day they had shared their loneliness with each other. She had felt a deep connection between them...one that was as much emotional as circumstantial. The suddenness of the feelings shocked her, but Malkia had told her once that sometimes that was the way it happened—when one least expected it...

Jahili stirred and rolled over onto his back, the light from outside the cave shining inside to spill across his maned head. At last his eyes blinked open, and he squinted against the light before he spied her and smiled. "Good morning."

"Morning?" She laughed. "Wake up, sleepyhead, it's almost midday."

"It is?" He sat up and looked outside. "Well we lions are nocturnal you know."

"True, but I have to return home today, so I wanted to say good-bye." Her gaze lowered.

At once Jahili was on his paws, nuzzling her. "I wish you didn't have to go...you have helped me so much, and made me feel for once I was worth something. You will come back, won't you?"

She nodded. "But before I go, I want you to prove you'll be all right while I'm gone. Show me the hunting skills you have learned."

For a moment he hesitated, but he knew he had to be strong if he was to survive on his own. "All right..."

In the burning noonday sun, Jahili was roasting, his dark fur absorbing the heat until he felt he was on fire. Sweat soaked his mane and the pads of his paws, but he ignored it, instead concentrating on the small zebra herd ahead of him.

At first his mind was blank, but then he remembered the things Taraji had drilled into him...he could even hear her voice repeating them as he slipped silently through the grass...

"Be aware of your surroundings...what will help you blend in, and what will make you stand out like a black leopard against mountain snow."

Glancing around, he found he had luckily chosen a patch of dead or dying grass that was a rich brown in hue...what with the shadows, he would not be seen.

"Keep low to the ground, and make sure your tail doesn't give you away."

Quickly he lowered his tail.

"Stay as silent as the wind."

His breathing slow and shallow, Jahili crept forward, concentrating so as not to shift the soil, or step on a stray branch or leaf.

"And when you are close enough...pounce!"

The lion leapt out of the grass directly behind a zebra mare and landed atop her back, his bared fangs sinking deep into her neck. The zebra squealed and began kicking out her hind legs, whirling in an attempt to throw him off, but he persisted, his fangs plunged into her neck their full length. The other zebras fled as the one he had attacked continued gyrating across the savanna, her kicks and head tosses becoming steadily weaker...

At last, as Jahili reached down with one forepaw and slashed his claws across her throat, the zebra let out a gurgling bark and collapsed slowly to the ground, legs twitching. Jahili let go and rose to his paws, staring down at the dead zebra in astonishment and pride. He barely noticed when Taraji stepped up to the zebra's other side. "Jahili...that was wonderful. Continue to hunt like that and you won't need me anymore."

Jahili looked up quickly. "I wouldn't need for you hunting, anyway..." His voice was soft.

Taraji stared at him across the zebra carcass. "Yeah...I'm sure we could find other reasons to be together..."

A long silence ensued, during which the lion and the lioness did nothing but gaze into each other's eyes and gauge the emotions they found there. Then Taraji managed a small chuckle. "Um, Jahili, you have a little blood on your muzzle..."

This was an understatement...the cream fur of his muzzle was soaked with the zebra's blood, dripping off onto the ground at his paws.

"I guess I do." He smirked. "I'll try and be less messy next time."

"Here, let me help you." She leaned close and began licking the blood away...much more slowly than she needed to. Jahili shuddered slightly. Eventually all the blood was gone, but Taraji continued to lick. And then she gave him a soft kiss.

Breathing hard, he stepped back a pace. "Perhaps...you should go now."

"Yes...or I might not leave." A hint of mischief was in her eyes.

"That...wouldn't be so bad."

She sighed. "Yes it would...I have to be there when my brother comes home with his mate, and to see my father. But I promise I will return." Taraji turned and eyed the rock formation that held the cave where they had been staying these past three days. "Shall we say, we meet at our cave in a week's time?"

Jahili nodded slowly. "I will be here, don't worry."

The lioness nuzzled him one last time, then turned toward the east and began moving away. "Farewell, Jahili...and good hunting! Remember, one week..."

The mahogany lion watched her go until she was only a speck on the horizon, his heart filled with emotions he could not put a name to. All he knew was that nothing would keep him from being here in a week's time.

Slowly he returned to the zebra and began to eat his fill. He knew now that he had to chance a return to the Majonzi, in the time Taraji was absent, and tell his father of what he had done. He already had important information for Kuchinja, that Dhahabu was returning in about three days with a mate, the future of Kiburi...that should be enough to begin earning his respect, yet the amount of protection the pride would offer ensured the safety of Dhahabu's mate and future cubs, whenever they would be born...

He hoped.

But whatever happened...he would see Taraji again.

* * *

Peering down from a towering hill crowned by the ubiquitous acacia, Mahiri's face lit up with a pleased smile as she at last beheld Kiburi. Turning to face Dhahabu, who was watching her with an eager expression, she laughed. "Dhahabu, it's breathtaking! So much like Kusini..."

The lion grinned. "That's what I thought when I saw your lands...it seems we were destined to be together, even by our homelands."

Together the three travelers inhaled the fresh air and watched a flock of flamingoes sail across the sky. It was the third day of their journey, and at last they had arrived. During the whole of the last day, Dhahabu had been anxious, constantly checking Mahiri's reactions to the land around them while awaiting the moment he would at last see his father again—and the expression Mfalme would wear when he first laid eyes on Mahiri.

Tembo had only laughed at him, but Mahiri had seen straight to his heart...she knew how much it meant to him that she would love his lands, and his pride...how he wanted her to see them the way he did, and be a part of them as he was. And she had sworn that she would, for his sake. But now, seeing the lands before her, she suddenly knew it would be no trouble at all for her heart to belong to these lands.

Nuzzling her mate, Mahiri whispered, "Thank you for bringing me here..."

As Dhahabu's eyes melted with love for her, Tembo suddenly let out a startled blast from his trunk. Both lions flinched and turned to see him staring down the hill. Following his gaze, the prince spied a familiar cinnamon-brown lioness loping across the valley below, in the direction of the river. His heart beat faster. "Taraji...she's back!"

The lion quickly rose to his paws and roared mightily. Below the lioness slid to a halt and stared upward in astonishment. Then she echoed the roar excitedly and altered her course, heading toward the hill. At the same time Dhahabu leapt down the hill, an amazing surge of power suddenly released from his muscles. Mahiri watched him streak toward Taraji, a thoughtful look on her face. "So this is his sister..."

Pursing her lips, she eyed the other lioness's lithe form, and suddenly began to realize why Dhahabu had always referred to her as being perhaps too beautiful...eyes narrowed, she too descended the hill, Tembo at her side.

As she reached Dhahabu, he and Taraji were already nuzzling closely, deep love mirrored in both their eyes. They moved apart when she approached, the lion giving Mahiri that same shining gaze. "Mahiri, come over here, I want you to meet my sister!"

Taraji's eyes, Mahiri noticed, were roving over her, clearly judging what she saw. Jaw clenched, the princess of Kusini snarled softly. "Well? Do you like what you see? Do I pass your test, Taraji?"

Dhahabu blinked. "Mahiri! How could you suggest such a thing? My sister would never—"

"Brother." The young lion turned at Taraji's sudden interruption, in a voice touched with shame. "She's right...I was judging her, trying to see if she was good enough for you." She looked at Mahiri mournfully. "I'm so sorry...Mahiri, is it? I didn't mean to hurt you. I just...I'm very protective of Dhahabu...he's the only brother I have..." The lioness bit her lip.

Slowly the suspicion faded from Mahiri's eyes, and she stepped close to Taraji. "I know...he told me about Sulubu."

For a long moment everyone was silent. Tembo and Dhahabu exchanged a glance, in which the elephant's frank expression clearly told the lion he should have expected this would happen.

Then Taraji looked up with tears in her eyes as Mahiri gently butted heads with her. "I understand how much you loved him...I don't blame you at all for being protective. But you don't have to worry, Taraji. I love Dhahabu, and would never do him wrong."

The young lion shot Tembo a triumphant glance, his faith in his mate and sister vindicated, and then moved to nuzzle both of them. "Yes, Taraji...Mahiri is a warm, compassionate lioness, and I love her more than anything..." He gazed at her perceptively. "But there's no need to be threatened. I will always love you, you are my sister, nothing can change that."

"Oh Dhahabu..." Taraji's tears ran faster and she embraced him. Mahiri watched silently, her thoughts dwelling on her own sister and how much she missed her. When the embrace was over, Taraji turned back to her. "Mahiri...again I apologize. I..." She glanced from her to Dhahabu. "I can see how much you love each other..."

Dhahabu gave Taraji a lick on the cheek. "It's all right..."

For a while none of them spoke, each absorbing the palpable emotion in the air and drawing close because of it. At last Tembo cleared his throat. "Well, now that we all know how much we love each other, don't you think we should go meet the others that we love?"

Mahiri nodded. "Yes, my love, I want to meet your father!"

Taraji smiled shyly at her. "You will come to love him, too, I hope."

"If he is anything like my father Adhimu, I will." The cream lioness stepped tentatively closer and nuzzled Taraji.

Dhahabu grinned. "He's a lot like Adhimu, actually...now I know why they are friends. Come on, I'll take you to the dens...and Taraji, you can tell me how your hunt went."

As he suited actions to words and led the party down the hill, he eyed Taraji's plump belly and laughed. "As if I need to ask."

Taraji swiped at him and growled playfully.

* * *

The cinnamon lioness could not help but sneak glances at her brother as they approached the network of caves that housed the dens of Kiburi. He looked so different...content, proud, mature. There was confidence in his step and wisdom in his eyes. He was even more of a lion now than he was when he left for Kusini.

Dhahabu, in turn, was watching Taraji. He could see she had changed, but he could not put his paw on the cause. She had just finished telling him about the addax hunt, but that alone could not account for the sparkle in her eyes, the shine in her pelt, the small sighs she gave when she thought he wasn't paying attention.

But the lion had no time to puzzle the matter out, for a familiar roar sounded at that moment, and then Mfalme emerged from the grass before the dens. For a moment Dhahabu caught a haunted look in his eyes, but then it was erased by joy and excitement as his father rushed to his side and pulled him into a powerful embrace. "Son! You have made it home at last! I was so worried about you...and you too, Taraji..." He gazed at his daughter over Dhahabu's shoulder, tears in his eyes.

Before the prince could even hazard a guess as to why Mfalme was so worried about them, let alone formulate the question, the Lion King spied Mahiri and inhaled sharply. Slowly he broke the embrace and moved toward her. Mahiri's eyes widened at his impressive size, and she bowed deeply. "Your Majesty...Dhahabu has told me so much about you."

Mfalme could not tear his eyes away from her beauty. At last he smiled and raised her head. "So you are my son's mate..." He nodded and then looked at Dhahabu. "Well done, son..."

Tears burned in Dhahabu's eyes as he saw the intense pride in Mfalme's expression...it was all he had imagined, and more...

There was a rustle in the grass, and then Malkia stepped into view. Without hesitation she moved to Dhahabu and nuzzled him repeatedly. "Thank the Kings you are safe...but what's this?" She had found the leaf-plaster on his chest as she embraced him.

"That...is a memento of the combat I had to fight to win Mahiri as my mate," the prince explained.

"You had to fight to win her?" Mfalme narrowed his eyes, clearly wondering what had possessed Adhimu to sanction such a turn of events.

Mahiri stepped forward. "Yes, your Majesty...he had to fight me. I wished to test him, to prove the nobility of his heart...and he passed with flying colors." She smiled fondly at Dhahabu.

Mfalme and Malkia exchanged a quick, worried glance, but when they saw neither their son nor Tembo seemed concerned, they relaxed. Taraji, on the other hand, raised both eyebrows and regarded Mahiri with surprise and respect.

"Well." Mfalme sighed, a barely perceptible quiver in his voice. "At least you have found what you sought, and are now home safe with us." He moved to Mahiri and head-butted her, purring loudly. "Welcome to the Kiburi Pride. Our home is yours, and whatever you need will be given."

"Thank you." She bowed again. "I see you are the soul of courtesy, your Majesty. My father was right about you."

"Oh? And what did he say?" Mfalme grinned.

At this point Dhahabu stepped in. "Wait a minute, before we get into any old history, I want to know...what is wrong here?" He looked from Mfalme to Malkia. "You both are acting like frightened cubs! What happened while we were away? Why were you so afraid we weren't safe?"

When the monarchs exchanged another look, Dhahabu spied claw marks on Malkia's face. "Mother!" He took hold of her muzzle with one paw and was surprised when she did not resist, letting him examine the wounds. Behind him he heard Taraji growl softly. He glanced at Mfalme. "Well Father? Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to ask the head huntress?"

"You can't." The mahogany lion's voice was pained and he spoke laboriously.

"Why not?"

"Because...she is dead."

"What?" This came from both Dhahabu and Taraji at once.

Unable to contain herself longer, Malkia began to weep. At the same time Mfalme slowly sat down on his haunches and suddenly seemed to feel his age...head hanging low, shoulders slumped, flesh drooping slightly. The change frightened Dhahabu.

Mahiri stirred. "Perhaps...I should leave you alone..."

"No." Mfalme lifted his head again. "You need to hear this too." He sighed. "Dhahabu...look at the river."

Dread filling him, the lion did as he was asked...and gasped in horror. The meander just below the hill on which they stood was littered with rotting wildebeest and congealing blood. Even from here he could smell the stench of death, a sickening pall that drove all away from the once crystalline waters. When he turned back, face ashen, he saw Taraji turned away, retching.

When he spoke, the prince's voice was deadly quiet. "Again I ask, what happened?"

"We are besieged, my son, by a group of rogues calling themselves the Wahamiji, the Wanderers." Mfalme chose his words carefully. "They are led by Kuchinja...the former crown prince of Kiburi."

Dhahabu snarled. "That's not possible!"

Malkia shook her head. "Oh but it is, my son...there are things we have never told you, or Taraji, about the history of our sovereignty here."

The prince blanched and sat down heavily. "You...you mean you are not really the king and queen...I am not the prince?"

"No!" Mfalme almost roared the word, and Mahiri and Taraji flinched. Tembo stood still, head lowered. He had heard what was about to be said from his mother...he had always thought Dhahabu knew. Gently he placed his trunk on his friend's shoulder, and the lion spun and stared at him as if he did not recognize who he beheld. But then Mfalme chuffed, drawing his attention back. "That is not what I meant at all...we are the king and queen. What you do not know is how we came to hold our positions. I...took this pride from Kuchinja's father, Giza."

Dhahabu was stunned. "But...then..."

Mfalme sighed. "Let me explain...it is a long story. My father Mkase and my mother Sisasi were once members of Giza's pride. But Giza was a tyrant, my son. He abused his rights as a king. He overhunted the herds, he mistreated his lionesses, everyone lived in fear of him...except my father. And Mkase's bravery has now come back to haunt us. One day, when I was but a cub, my father caught Giza torturing a cheetah female...no, I must be truthful. He was forcing himself on her."

Dhahabu snarled, instinctively clawing a huge furrow in the soil. "So Mkase did the only thing he could think of, he pounced on Giza and knocked him away, allowing the cheetah to escape. But for that action, my family was exiled from Kiburi."

The prince turned and slowly regarded his sister and his mate, both of whom wore expressions of indignation and fury.

Malkia sighed. "The lionesses did not agree of course..."

Dhahabu's head came up. "You were there, Mother?"

"Of course I was. I was only a cub, but my mother told me everything that happened...I was forced to mature emotionally at a very young age..." The queen gazed off into the distance, as if searching for her lost cubhood, and Taraji quickly approached her to offer warm nuzzles of understanding.

Mfalme watched this for a time, tears in his eyes, then returned to his narrative. "So...my family was forced to live on the outskirts for all of my cubhood and adolescence. I grew up with all the love Mkase and Sisasi could lavish on me...but without playmates, and often very little to eat. Somehow we managed. From the time I was old enough to understand what had happened to us and why, I was determined that I would become strong—so I could punish Giza and return us to where we belonged.

"I hunted constantly, starting small, of course. I had many close calls on the edges of Giza's dark lands—run-ins with his cubs, or attacks by hyenas and jackals. But I was stubborn, I always have been..." Here he managed a small smirk. "And eventually my work paid off. I became stronger and more muscular than even my father. And it was a good thing too. Because by this time there was a severe drought in the lands...and so, although he knew the consequences, Father took us back into Giza's lands, to ask forgiveness and to see if we could rejoin."

The entire glade was silent, as if the lands themselves were recalling the dark days they had once suffered.

"But...I take it that didn't happen," Dhahabu murmured.

"No. It didn't. Mkase left my mother and I in a small cave and went to meet Giza on a hill overlooking the den. And Giza, like the paranoid fool he was, thought my father had returned to take over his pride. So they fought...and my father was killed before our eyes." He shuddered and wiped away tears. Picturing Sulubu's death, Dhahabu could only imagine how horrifying it had been for his father to see his own father die so cruelly. His only consolation was that such a thing could never happen to him.

"Well." Mfalme shook himself. "Giza followed my father's scent back to the den, so Mother and I fled in separate directions. Eventually, when I thought it was safe, I backtracked and found some of my mother's blood soaked into the ground not far from the cave. I was enraged...my parents were both dead, at the claws of this vile murderer." The Lion King's body shook with anger. "So I followed him. I tracked him. I swore I would make him pay." He paused. "I trust in your journey south to Kusini you saw the immense rock formation pointing to the sky?"

Dhahabu nodded slowly...he remembered Tembo calling attention to it...a gigantic monolith, cracked and pitted, creases and ledges running up its sides, a jagged slab jutting out from its eastern face, held up by another angled slab.

"That was once Giza's throne, Kituko Rock. Its caves were where his pridemembers dwelt. I tracked him there, and confronted him atop the peak. He was so confident of his prowess that he confessed to killing Mkase. So I challenged him." He paused again, and a small, sly smile crept across his muzzle. "I think you can determine who was the victor and who was the vanquished."

Mahiri and Tembo chuckled. Dhahabu exchanged a long look with Taraji, then stared at his father. Though he had not thought it possible, he loved and respected him even more.

"I did not finish the job...it was clear Giza would die. But by this time he had six sons, though three were only cubs. I gave them the choice of whether to stay, but the oldest, Kuchinja, refused. So I banished them, and they took away their father's mangled body, to his death I assume. Afterward, the lionesses of the pride were so grateful they demanded I become their king. And that is when two wonderful things happened." He smiled. "I met Malkia...and I learned my mother was alive."

Malkia leaned her head against her mate's shoulder. "You see, Dhahabu, when Giza and Sisasi fought, I happened to be nearby on my first hunt. I heard the commotion and hid in the bushes. When I saw what was happening I knew I had to act. So when Sisasi passed near the bush, I whispered to her to play dead. She did so, after Giza struck her particularly hard, and then I stepped out and pretended to congratulate him. I got his mind off the fight by suggesting he and I could mate later on..." She grimaced.

"But first I told him I would dispose of the body. So I dragged Sisasi back to Kituko Rock, and hid her in one of the unused dens. All the lionesses and I worked together to keep her presence a secret until after Giza and his sons had been exiled—once Kuchinja almost caught us. But after they were gone and Mfalme became the king, I restored his mother to him." She smiled through her tears. "And that was how we first began to fall in love...but that's another story."

For several minutes Dhahabu digested this incredible tale. Finally he shook his head. "I had no idea how much you had given up and fought for to gain our lands, Father..."

Mfalme nodded. "And now it seems we must fight again. For Kuchinja and his brothers have returned, and they have sworn to take the Kiburi Lands back. It was they who caused the massacre of the wildebeests you have seen, and it was Kuchinja himself who killed Farate."

Dhahabu slowly rose to his paws and moved to the edge of the hilltop, gazing down at the river, his form stiff with anger. When he turned back, his eyes blazed. "I will not let that happen. I will die before I let the son of a tyrant take what is rightfully ours!"

"As will I!" Taraji took her place beside Dhahabu with a roar, tail lashing.

"And I." Tembo loomed on Dhahabu's other side, tusks gleaming in the noonday sun.

"And I as well." Mahiri nodded grimly. "I did not become Dhahabu's mate, only to see everything he has known and believed in be destroyed."

Both Dhahabu and Mfalme looked at the loyal cadre before them with pride, but Malkia, who had been sniffing the air for some time now, slowly shook her head. As everyone watched her with confusion, the queen wiped her eyes, rose, and circled Mahiri, sniffing again, paying close attention to her hind end, to the lioness's extreme embarrassment. At last she sat back and looked at Mahiri kindly. "I think not, Mahiri...you must stay in the dens where it is safe."

"What?" she exploded. "You say I cannot defend my own mate, or help protect his pride and our future?"

"But that is just my point...to protect the future of the pride you must remain in the dens."

"Why?" Mahiri demanded.

"Because, my dear, you are gravid."

There was a shocked silence.

"What?" the cream lioness asked, a blank look on her face.

"Mahiri, you are with cub."

As the enormity of this revelation hit her, the lioness slowly sat down in defeat, knowing there was no way she could place herself in danger now...she bit her lip, a strange mixture of disappointment and joy filling her.

Dhahabu was breathing hard, unable to believe his ears...he had had a feeling this was so, but to have confirmation... "You...you mean I'm going to be a father?"

Taraji smirked at him. "My my...whatever were you doing in Kusini, brother dear?"

The golden lion's face turned a deep, burning scarlet.

Laughter filled the little glade, laughter that released the tension and opened the way to celebration...yet which failed to erase the dark thoughts that all those assembled there had about the future.

* * *

His tongue hanging from his mouth, curled and dripping saliva as he panted fiercely, Jahili slowly lifted his head to gaze across the wastes of the Majonzi. Waves of heat shimmered before his eyes, but he knew he had to press on. His father must know of what he had accomplished...then at last he could begin to walk the path that would lead to his father's respect.

Each paw seemed leaden, weighed down by the growing weakness in his limbs...he could barely place one paw before the other, and he stumbled often. Gazing up, he spied vultures wheeling against the blazing white sky, but he set his jaw. They would not have him, he had too much to live for now. He only hoped he would find one of his uncles soon...

When at last he looked up and saw a massive form on the horizon, he at first thought it was only a delusion. But as the heat dissipated momentarily, he could see it was quite real...and it was the golden pelt of his uncle Njaa that he spied, patrolling the land as he often did when needing time to himself.

Sighing with relief, Jahili tossed his sweaty mane out of his eyes and pushed himself harder, moving as quickly as he could toward the older lion. As he drew near, Njaa happened to glance his way and froze in place, eyes wide. Clearly he too thought he was seeing only what his lonely mind wished him to see.

"Uncle Njaa! It's really you!" Jahili reached his side, tears in his eyes as he gazed at the uncle he loved the most of all.

"Jahili?" The golden lion moved to his side as his nephew began to faint, his strong shoulder ducking down to offer him support. "What are you doing back here? If Kuchinja knows you came back..." Njaa eyed him worriedly, but seeing the look of love in Jahili's eyes, he warmly embraced him.

"I had to come back, uncle...I have done something that will at last make Father proud of me." The mahogany lion pressed his face into Njaa's thick chestnut mane.

Raising an eyebrow, Njaa sighed. "I fear that is a lost cause, nephew. He will only reject you again and put you through more pain...or worse, he may even take your life for returning from exile. I cannot in good conscience allow such a thing to come to pass."

"Please, Uncle Njaa...I know this will make him start to accept me...it has to do with Mfalme's pride." He paused. "I need to see him...can you take me somewhere private where we can meet?"

For a long moment the other lion only stared at him, warring emotions in his eyes—confusion, disbelief, worry, distrust, curiosity, but finally a desperate hope. At last Njaa hung his head. "All right...for you I would do anything, you know that." He gently nuzzled Jahili, a rumbling purr beginning in his throat and echoing in his broad chest. "I hope you are right, and that you will be allowed to stay...I have missed you, Jahili. You offer a chance for sanity and compassion amidst Kuchinja's narrow-minded vision of revenge." Eyes bright, the lion quickly embraced Jahili.

Feeling the warmth and gentleness in his uncle's powerful foreleg, Jahili let the tears flow, all his memories of growing up in the Majonzi now glowing with life and goodness as he recalled the constant love Njaa had always shown to him...the concern, the determination to guide him, the pleasure at seeing him mature into a lion who had always made him proud. "Thank you, uncle...I can never thank you enough for this. And I have missed you, too...I love you more than I can say."

Njaa softly butted his forehead against Jahili's. "I know...I've always known. And I love you, nephew. Now...if you can lean on me, I will take you to an oasis and bring you meat. That should keep you safe until I can bring your father."

Jahili nodded and moved to his uncle's side, allowing his weight to rest against Njaa as they began to walk westward. Both exchanged hopeful glances, but whatever happened, Jahili could only pray to the Kings that he would at least never be separated from Njaa again.

* * *

Just as the sun was beginning its final descent toward the horizon, staining the Majonzi in the colors of fire, Njaa at last returned to the oasis where he had left Jahili, a familiar massive gray form beside him.

It had taken a few hours to find the lush patch of trees and bushes surrounding a small but deep pool of pure blue, a half hour more for Njaa to hunt down and bring to his nephew an assortment of desert hares, a wildebeest calf, and an impala. Then with one last nuzzle the golden lion had departed.

Now, his meal consumed, Jahili slowly rose to his paws, watching the approach of his father with trepidation. The fact that Njaa had succeeded in persuading him to come bode well, but that did not mean it would be an easy conversation.

When Njaa and Kuchinja at last stood before the mahogany lion, he looked his father in the eye. What he saw there was a now-muted hatred, and intense curiosity.

"Well. Njaa tells me you think you have done something to earn my respect, concerning Mfalme's pride." He smirked. "We shall see. You had better make this a rapid explanation—I have little patience for fools, even loquacious ones."

Jahili swallowed. "I have gained the trust of a member of the pride...Taraji, Mfalme's daughter. And I plan to pry information out of her to help your conquest."

There was a dead silence. Njaa's jaw slackened, his expression one of intense disappointment and worry for his nephew's safety. Kuchinja too was stunned, but he recovered quickly. "Now why should I believe you? And why would you help me now, when for so long you have been against my conquest?"

Jahili swallowed again. So far, so good. Now to take the plunge. "Because, while I still do not approve of the conquest, I know it is what you want, and I want you to be happy. Since I can't do the violent things you ask of my uncles, I decided I would help you the only way I could. I am clever and thorough, no matter what you may think to the contrary...I can supply you with intelligence about the pride. And in fact I already have learned something you will find interesting."

Grudgingly, Kuchinja nodded, the suspicion fading from his eyes. "You could be of use to me in that sense," he admitted reluctantly. "All right. I will let you return for a trial period, to see if you can truly aid my efforts against Mfalme. You are far from—"

He was interrupted by Jahili, who threw himself forward at his words to embrace him and nuzzle his mane. Instinctively Kuchinja growled, but then slowly he relented and did not break the embrace...if for no other reason than amazement. "Jahili...how can you show such affection to me?" He snorted. "It makes you weak. And anyway, I cast you out and insulted you...you should feel nothing but hatred for me now."

Jahili shook his head. "That's not how love works, Father. You are my flesh and blood...though I disagree with your beliefs, I will always love you. And this is not weakness...love is one of the most powerful things in this life..." He nuzzled his father's mane again, so glad to at last be close to him again.

Uncertain and uncomfortable, Kuchinja lifted a massive paw and patted Jahili's back. Though clearly forced, it also held a spark of emotion. Njaa stared at him in wonder.

Finally Kuchinja broke the embrace and turned away from Jahili. "Love...powerful?" He shook his head. "No. I loved Giza with all my heart...and it could not save him."

Only Njaa caught the smallest tear in Kuchinja's eye before he angrily blinked it away and turned back to Jahili. "What is this information you have already learned?"

The young lion sighed. "Taraji told me Dhahabu is returning to Kiburi this very day...and he is bringing a mate with him."

Kuchinja stiffened. "Is she pregnant?"

Jahili nearly choked on his father's bluntness. "I don't know...but if not, I suspect she will be soon. You remember what Mwoga told you about Dhahabu."

The gray lion nodded slowly, then began pacing before them. "You were right, Jahili...this is critical information. Dhahabu cannot be allowed to have an heir if we are to reclaim our rightful place. This mate of his must be dealt with..."

Jahili's eyes widened, but he quickly covered. "I shall endeavor to learn more of her from Taraji, Father."

Kuchinja cocked his head, then placed a paw on his son's shoulder. "And so you shall, Jahili." And then he actually chuckled. "Now I see a little of myself in you, at long last."

Though he felt sick inside, Jahili managed a grin as he and Njaa rose to their paws and moved after Kuchinja, who was already turning toward the southern jungles where the other Wahamiji waited. "That is good to know..."

The gray lion shook out his thick mane of coal. "We have much to discuss, Jahili...of how you can best use Taraji to our advantage. And to aid us, perhaps, in capturing this mate of Dhahabu's, or her offspring. They could make excellent bargaining tools. For them, Dhahabu would do anything..."

As the massive lion paced out of the oasis into the setting sun, its burning light soaking into his mane with a volcanic glow, Jahili followed slowly, Njaa at his side. He exchanged a glance with his uncle, whose eyes betrayed a profound worry. Then he whispered, "Not if I have anything to say about it..."

* * *

Over the next three months, the Kiburi Lands and those surrounding lay under a pall of expectancy and tension, interspersed with periods of boredom. The greatest attention during that time was paid to Mahiri. Upon determining she was pregnant, Malkia quickly took the young lioness under her wing, as she did for all the lionesses of Kiburi when their time came to have cubs. Aside from Dhahabu, she took over Mahiri's grooming, and was quite specific in which sorts of prey he and Mfalme were to have the lionesses bring.

Unfortunately, Kuchinja seemed to have an innate sense for what this prey should be, and constantly harassed the herds in question. Thus, as Mahiri's belly swelled with the new life growing within her, the pride became hard pressed to provide food for themselves, let alone their newest member. Worry was the predominant emotion...for none more than for Dhahabu, the anxious father-to-be. Already on edge over the coming cubs, he was further stressed by the attacks of the Wahamiji. And this was what Kuchinja had hoped for.

Jahili had been happily welcomed back to the Majonzi by Tauni and Ushindi, and even Kufa and Vita had warmed somewhat. All had agreed the young lion's plan was sound, but Kuchinja had added the corollary that their attacks on Kiburi would continue...and Jahili would gauge their success by assessing the effect on Taraji. His meetings with the cinnamon lioness were frequent, occurring every week or so.

Each time they met, it became more clear that life was taking its toll on her. Some of the luster had faded from her eyes and pelt, and it pained Jahili to see her suffering like this. Yet all he could do was offer her false assurances that things would change for the better soon. His guilt grew...even though he had done little to betray her, he felt as if he had.

Yet another emotion kept pace with his guilt...the deepening love he felt for Taraji. He could not explain it, it was as if she were the other half of his soul that he had been searching for his whole life. They could be discussing something as simple as the weather, or a hunt, and he would be entranced by her every word, caught up in the nuances and inflections of her voice, loving each one. He felt a kinship with her, that they were meant to be together in spite of everything conspiring against them, because they both knew what it was to be alone, to be lonely.

Even as she casually supplied him with information about herd size and location, borders, and times when her brother and father would be in certain locales, his love for her grew. He carefully edited her words, sending his father on fruitless searches for Dhahabu or Mfalme, his excuse being that the lions must have changed their plans. So far he had been successful...but he knew this could not go on forever. The line he walked was thin indeed...

Taraji, too, walked a line, one of a different nature. Her frequent disappearances into the savanna had begun to arouse quiet suspicions, particularly with Malkia, who unlike Mfalme was not wrapped around the pads of her daughter's paw. She knew all too well the nature of young lionesses. But she could not pursue her suspicions, for when she was not attending to Mahiri's needs, she was required to complete pride business, meeting with allies and informing them of the conflict with the Wahamiji while Mfalme and Dhahabu constantly patrolled the borders.

One morning, however, near the beginning of Mahiri's third month of pregnancy, Malkia managed to witness Taraji's departure from Kiburi once more...her delivering of an excuse to the new head huntress, saying she was going out on a solitary hunt and would be back in several days. As the cinnamon lioness turned and proceeded westward across the valley, Malkia stood on a hilltop watching her, Mahiri at her side. "Have you noticed," she observed, "that Taraji always goes the same direction when she leaves on these spurious hunts of hers?"

Mahiri nodded. "Surely the prey cannot be that plentiful there..."

"No. It is something else. Something more...personal."

The cream lioness grinned slyly. "A male, for certain...I too have seen the way she acts. When she is here, she is listless. She goes on hunts, but her mind is always elsewhere. She brings me meat, and helps Dhahabu. But even when she drove that zebra at Kuchinja and made him flee, it was not long afterward that her gaze turned to the west. And when she leaves on these hunts of hers, there is a shine in her eyes and a spring in her step."

Malkia watched Taraji disappear over the horizon thoughtfully. "My thoughts exactly."

Mahiri gave her a strange look. "But...why aren't you happy for her, then?"

The queen sighed. "Because of the danger posed by Kuchinja. And her secretiveness. Why is she hiding this from us?" She paused meaningfully. "I only hope she knows what she is doing..."

Dhahabu too had managed to put the clues together, but in a much more direct way. Ever since he returned with Mahiri and noticed Taraji's curious state of mind, he had resolved to learn the truth. And since she would not tell him herself...he had resorted to subterfuge. After her first few disappearances, he had her followed, and once it was determined she always went in the same direction, he had intercepted her on a return trip—ostensibly to greet her and welcome her home. But when he drew her into his gentle embrace, he had unobtrusively sniffed her pelt...and immediately detected the scent of a male lion.

At first he had been angry, although he hid this fact from Taraji. But when his temper had cooled, and he had gotten past her having deceived him, he began to feel a secret joy for her. At last his sister had found what she needed to make her life worthwhile...and perhaps even more. He had no idea how far things had progressed between her and this mystery lion, and he would respect her privacy until she chose to tell him. But he hoped that all would go well.

At the same time his fears grew—fear that on one of her journeys Kuchinja would find her alone; fear that this lion was not as good for her as he thought, that he posed some danger; fear that something might happen to the lion, or he might leave Taraji, resulting in a shattered heart. And he had already picked up the pieces of his own heart when Sulubu died...he did not know if he could do so again for Taraji.

Strangely, the entire three months seemed to reflect Mahiri's condition. Taraji and Jahili's love for each other filled their hearts more every day, just as Mahiri's underbelly hung lower and swept aside more grass with each passing week. Her shifting moods of anger, worry, and devotion matched those around her—Kuchinja, furiously impatient for her to give birth so he could set his plans in motion; Malkia and Mfalme, trying to hold the pride together; and Dhahabu, a constant presence, attentive and gentle, always assuring her that she was beautiful and would be the best mother his cubs could ever have.

The months passed. The baking heat of the sun increased, and the dry season approached, the vegetation crackling in the slightest breeze. The river steamed at the height of the day, and became far shallower as its waters evaporated.

Then at last, when Jahili reported the state of the river to Kuchinja, the gray lion devised a plan...

* * *

(A/N: Not really anything to say here, other than to note that those of you who might be feeling overwhelmed by the large cast of characters can now breathe a sigh of relief. The Kusini Pride was introduced solely to show the sort of lands and pride Mahiri came from, to give you a context from which to understand her actions and thoughts, a backdrop for characterizing her. From here on out none of them will appear in the story. And in the upcoming chapters you'll get to know more of the Wahamiji, especially Kuchinja and Njaa. I hope that will make things easier to digest. R/R!)


	7. Chapter 7: Forbidden Love

**Chapter 7: Forbidden Love**

At the western border of Kiburi, south of the gorge, Kuchinja stood on a promontory overlooking the river as it wound down from the tropical jungles and plunged into a towering waterfall. Just beyond the falls, the river narrowed, churning through a small gap as it flowed past forested knolls before entering the flats of the savanna.

Perfect for his plan.

Below, his brothers waited, downwind of a grazing herd of rhinoceros...waited for his signal.

Smirking, the gray lion lifted his head and let out an immense roar that startled the horned beasts into a panic. At the same time, the other members of the Wahamiji burst from the grass, roaring in unison.

Though deadly, the rhinoceros were also easily fooled into believing they were surrounded. Seeing the river as their only escape, the massive animals tossed their heads and crashed into the forest. In moments the trees were shaking, their roots ripping free of the soil as the rhinoceros blindly charged anything in their path, including the trunks before them.

Kuchinja leapt down the hillside, single eye trained on the shaking treetops. Finally it happened. The largest rhinoceros, a huge male, slammed his horn into a baobab, and the trunk snapped. As the tree, which grew right beside the bank, toppled into the river, it crashed into several acacias in passing, their limbs entangling, until it pulled them down as well. Broken limbs and shattered trunks fell into the water as smaller trees succumbed to the onslaught of rhinoceros and followed their larger relatives. Soon a crush of broken wood filled the river, blocking the gap and forming a natural dam.

The gray lion reached level ground as the rhinoceros reached the far side of the now growing lake and disappeared into the trees. He smiled cruelly, then paced downstream. On the far side of the dam, water leaked from between cracked trunks, but the river itself was slowly receding. It would take time, of course, but he could see that the surface had already dropped considerably, and he could see the rocky bed.

As Njaa and Vita came up behind him, Kuchinja chuckled. "Let's see them survive without water..."

* * *

By the end of the afternoon, the dam had taken its toll. The entire river was dry, with only scattered puddles to attest to its former state. Various animals stood along its banks, stunned by the calamity. Looking at the sere land around them, a pair of giraffes and a cheetah exchanged a desperate look. The waterholes could never sustain them...especially since they too were drying up...

As Mfalme met with the leaders of the herds, Dhahabu stayed in the cool darkness of the den his father had provided for himself and Mahiri, softly nuzzling her. He could hear the raised voices from outside as Mfalme, the elephant matriarch, and the stallion of the largest zebra herd argued.

"Dhahabu...what are we going to do?" Mahiri's voice was faint and her face gaunt. "If the river does not return, the few herds we have left will leave...that much is clear."

Although he secretly knew she was right, Dhahabu shook his head and gave Mahiri a soft lick between her ears. "That won't happen, my love. Something will change...perhaps the rains will come."

"But Dhahabu, the dry season has barely begun."

Her soft voice stopped him. Head hanging in defeat, the young lion sighed. "I know...I don't understand it. The river should not have dried up so soon...and so completely..."

Groaning quietly, Mahiri rolled over on her side so that her belly could rest more comfortably against the cool rock. "Perhaps, then, it is not natural."

Dhahabu stared at her incredulously—and then his eyes narrowed, flashing in anger. "Of course...Kuchinja! But how did he..." He stopped. "It doesn't matter. I have to go find out what he has done, and undo it." He leaned down and licked her all across her muzzle, painting it with a warm kiss. "Will you be all right, my love?"

For a second Mahiri hesitated, then she nodded. "There are many here to guard me...and this must be done, for the good of the pride."

Nuzzling her, Dhahabu nodded in return and then headed out of the cave. Behind him, Mahiri lowered her head to her paws and panted, trying to ignore the rising heat in her face, and the wetness beneath her tail as she felt her muscles begin to clench...

* * *

Cresting the last hill before the falls, Tembo gazed into the valley and was stunned. "Dhahabu! You'd better come and see this..."

Dhahabu loped up the hill behind his friend, panting. When he at last arrived beside the elephant, he groaned aloud.

The prince of Kiburi had held a hurried conference with Mfalme telling him of Mahiri's suspicions and his resolution to tear down Kuchinja's scheme. His father had suggested that if Kuchinja had somehow managed to block the river, he would need assistance. So the elephant matriarch had ordered two young bull elephants to join Tembo and Dhahabu as they worked their way upriver, trying to find the source of the problem. But now that they had reached the falls, the problem was painfully obvious.

At the narrows, the river was fully blocked by a crush of downed trees. As the party descended the hill and moved to the shore of the newly-formed lake, it was apparent that a herd of some large animals—rhinoceros, by the scent—had rushed through here, bringing down the trees. And as he checked the ground, Dhahabu could recognize the scents of several of Kuchinja's brothers. He snarled.

"It _was_ the Wahamiji." He lifted his head to the other elephants. "Looks like it was a good thing we brought you along...because your strength will be needed to break through that mess..."

* * *

Carrying a haunch of leucoryx, Taraji entered Dhahabu and Mahiri's cave. She knew the lioness needed her sleep, but right now she felt rather helpless. With Mfalme and Dhahabu and Malkia each performing critical roles, the cinnamon lioness felt her lack of importance anew. Bringing food to the pregnant lioness was the only way, albeit small, that she could assist at this juncture.

"Mahiri?" Only silence answered her. Worried, Taraji stepped deeper into the darkness of the cave; it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. When they had done so, she could see Mahiri was indeed there, lying flat on her belly. Taraji froze. Something was wrong. Her position looked too unnatural, her claws were unsheathed and digging into the stone, and the expression on her face was one of intense pain. "Mahiri, what is it?"

"I...Taraji, it's..." A spasm went through her body, and she tightened her jaw, her eyes closed.

As her tail lashed, Taraji glanced in that direction and spied a pool of blood beneath Mahiri's hind legs.

The leucoryx leg fell from her mouth.

"Oh my...Mahiri—the cubs!" At once Taraji turned back and roared out the entrance of the cave. "Father, Mother, come quickly!"

* * *

"One, two, three, _PUSH_!"

At Dhahabu's insistent yell, Tembo and the other elephants braced their heads and tusks against the barrier of deadwood. Shoving their feet against the rocky bottom of the lake, the three flexed massive muscles and pushed.

For a moment the young lion thought nothing would happen, but then a groaning shudder ripped through the trunk of the baobab, followed by an ominous cracking. "Harder! Push harder!" Dhahabu leapt into the water beside them and pushed his own muscled shoulder against one of the smaller trunks.

Straining, the elephants complied as water began to rush past their feet and through the new chinks and breaks in the wood. At last, Tembo gave one last heave and the baobab snapped down the middle. Heartened, the other elephants pushed on either side, and the tree sagged forward. Instantly the dammed-up water roared through the opening, blasting out in a torrent that threatened to sweep the elephants off their feet. Hurriedly they moved aside, joining Dhahabu in forcing more openings between the deadwood.

With a loud crunch the entire dam shuddered and began to collapse. Scrambling to shore, Dhahabu watched with pride as the lake poured through the wood. In seconds, the river's waters broke the last of the trees and crashed into the riverbed. Soon the remnants of the dam were washed downstream as the river rapidly filled its bed and raced eastward.

Tembo and the elephants stood beside him and breathed hard, huge smiles on their faces as the life-giving water of the river was once more restored to the Kiburi Lands.

* * *

Weary and water-logged, Dhahabu returned to his den two hours later, climbing the hill from the now-churning river, wishing only for the loving embrace of his mate. He smiled softly to himself. Though they had been not been able to determine how many cubs Mahiri carried, it was clearly at least two by the size of her belly. He shook his head. He still could not believe it. He and Mahiri had shared their love with each other, as their hearts and bodies had desired, but to create new life...it was an unimaginable thought. He could not wait until he could hold his son or daughter...

Finally he stepped into the privacy of the cave. "Mahiri, my love..."

He stopped. The den was empty, and as he moved further in he could tell by the chill in the air that it had been for some time.

Then, as he reached the place where he had left his mate, another scent reached his nostrils...at the same time he saw the dark stain on the rocky floor.

Face pale, he backed away. "No...no, it can't be..."

A soft step came from behind him. "It's not what you think, son."

Turning, Dhahabu found himself facing a concerned Mfalme. "Father, where is she? What's happened to Mahiri?"

Mfalme eyed him for a moment, then grinned. "She is with your mother...in the birthing den."

It took a moment for this to register. "What? She...she is...?"

When he saw the smirk on his father's face, it was as if Dhahabu's heart had grown suddenly larger. "I have to see her..."

Before Mfalme could stop him, the prince was racing from the cave.

* * *

Deep within the birthing den, where all lionesses of Kiburi were taken to prevent the scent of blood from attracting scavengers to too many widely separated locations, Mahiri lay prone, claws gouging the floor as another wave of pain washed over her. Beside her, Malkia brushed a concerned paw across her forehead and urged her to drink from the water-filled gourd she had dragged into place, while another lioness helped hold Mahiri down if she struggled too much.

The pain flared again, the agony so strong she almost passed out. There had already been so much blood, and she didn't know how much more she could take. Malkia had given her a bitter herb that controlled the flow so that she did not bleed to death, and another for the pain, but it was not strong enough. And she could not eat more, Malkia said, or it would harm the cubs.

"Mahiri, you must push! I know it hurts, but you have to do it when the spasms come, or you will never birth the cubs," the queen insisted.

As the lioness drank gratefully from the gourd and Malkia wiped the sweat from her brow, there was a commotion at the entrance of the den. "Mahiri! I have to see her!"

The gentle, male voice nearly stopped her heart, and the love it sent thrilling through her veins nearly blocked out the pain. "Dhahabu..."

Hurriedly the queen moved to the entrance as the prince burst inside past the lionesses who had been standing watch. "I'm sorry, son, but you have to leave—this is no place for a male!"

Dhahabu's eyes were wild. "But she is my mate, I must see her!"

Malkia's gaze hardened, but at that moment Mahiri finally found her voice. "No, it's all right, Malkia...let him stay, for a few moments only."

Reluctantly the queen stepped aside, letting Dhahabu run to her. Instantly he was at her side, his rough, warm tongue licking her cheek, her forehead, her ears, her neck. His quivering purr revealed his nervousness, and she could see his eyes bulging as he took in all the blood. But Mahiri gently lifted one paw to his cheek, and then as he leaned down, she rubbed her head against his broad chest. "Dhahabu...it will be all right. Your mother has been wonderful...she will make sure nothing happens to me."

He nodded. "I know that, I don't doubt her skill...but are you sure...?"

The prince broke off as she winced in pain again. "Yes...I'm...sure. Now go. Wait...outside. You can come in...when it's over..."

Tears in his eyes, Dhahabu gave her one last nuzzle and then caressed her neck before turning and disappearing into the waning sunlight outside the cave.

Malkia approached once more. "Now, if you can hold on to your thoughts of Dhahabu, perhaps you can make it through this easier."

* * *

Pacing back and forth before the entrance, Dhahabu clenched his jaw, his heart a tangled knot of emotions as he listened intently to Mahiri's cries from within. Something had to be wrong. Malkia had never told him it had been even half this difficult when he and his siblings had been birthed. And all of that blood...it had almost been enough to make him vomit.

As a particularly piercing yowl split the air, he winced and turned away, stomach tense and eyes misted over. It wasn't right. Guilt filled him—he had put her in this condition. Out of love, yes, but also from sheer pleasure and desire. Was that what this pain was, punishment from the Kings, a warning not to indulge the flesh?

But then, as he considered it further, a thought struck him, so shining in its clarity that it felt pure and right. It had to be the nature of the Circle...everything existed in a balance. Pain with pleasure. Life with death. It was a reminder, both of the tenuousness of existence, and therefore its inherent worth. It was a gift from the Kings, to make clear the importance of creation so that there was no way he or Mahiri could take it for granted...

Latching onto that thought, Dhahabu paced back the way he had come, trying to hold on as another cry pierced the oppressive heat. Then, as he lifted his head to the setting sun, Malkia emerged from the cave. Immediately he was at her side. "What is it? What's happened?"

The queen smiled. "Dhahabu, my dear, you have one son."

"That's all?" he blurted out. A sheepish look crossed his face as he realized how greedy and egotistical that sounded.

Malkia chuckled a little. "No, there are two more cubs from what I can tell. The birth is not over, I just thought you'd want to know now that you have an heir, so you can get some sleep." She sighed. "It will be a long night."

Dhahabu nodded weakly as his mother disappeared back into the den. A son! He had a son...

Stunned, he lay down on the warm stone just outside the entrance. As weariness overcame him and tired muscles protested, he placed his head on his forepaws and finally allowed himself to take a breath and relax. It would be fine. His mother was there, one cub had already been birthed, all would be well...

Slowly he fell asleep.

* * *

Hours passed, each one seeming more cruel to Mahiri as she struggled to push when the spasms came. Her first two cubs were now both before her, curled up in the curve of her forelegs, their fur warm and fluffy from her careful grooming. But one cub remained, and for some unknown reason he seemed more difficult, as if he were too stubborn to come out. "He's too much like me," she muttered under her breath. "Or he doesn't want to leave his nice warm home."

Looking up, she saw Malkia watching her, eyes filled with love and kindness. What a wonderful lioness she was! These months spent together had been so emotional...her own mother Uzima had died when she was two, and she had always felt an empty hole in her life since then. But now, as Malkia held out a paw and clasped hers, Mahiri's eyes filled with tears. Malkia was a beautiful mother to Dhahabu...and now to her as well.

She gripped the paw tighter as another spasm came, and eventually had to let go for fear of clawing Malkia. Then she felt a change in the pain. Bearing down, she felt movement, and then the other lioness made an exclamation. Turning weakly, Mahiri glanced back...and could at last see the head emerging...

* * *

Dhahabu was shivering in the cold dawn light, curled up as much as his massive frame would allow, when he felt a nuzzle against his cheek. Blinking sleepily, he looked up into Malkia's face. "Son, it's over."

He sat up at once and looked around at the breaking of day. "It took all night?"

The queen shook her head. "The birth was over by midnight. But you needed your sleep, so I didn't want to wake you. Besides..." She smiled. "I thought you would want to see your cubs in the light of day."

Dhahabu nodded eagerly at this and rose to his paws. "So I have one son...and...?"

"And another...and another." Malkia laughed aloud at the look of euphoria that crossed Dhahabu's face.

"How is Mahiri?"

"She's fine, come and see." Quickly Dhahabu followed his mother inside. In the back of the den, Mahiri lay, looking wan and bedraggled, but radiant. As he stepped into the shadows, he saw she was on her side, and the three cubs were nursing. Slowly he stopped and gazed downward. He could not stop watching them...his cubs...HIS cubs. Their little paws pushed fiercely against her belly, forcing more warm milk to flow from her teats into their questing mouths. Each had his eyes closed as he suckled.

The muscled lion turned to Mahiri at last, a lump in his throat. "You did well, Mahiri...they're adorable."

As he approached her, she smirked slightly. "You didn't do so bad yourself." She nuzzled him.

Dhahabu sat on his haunches and licked her ears, continuing to stare at the cubs. Finally, after what seemed hours but was only about ten minutes, the cubs quit nursing one by one and turned away, rolling on their pudgy bellies. Mahiri laughed, then reached down and took hold of the nearest cub by his scruff and set him between her forepaws, licking his head. Malkia moved the second, and then Dhahabu worked up his nerve and at last lifted the third and largest cub, who was a rich golden tawny color.

When all the cubs were safe in Mahiri's care, they pressed into her chest fur and began to purr softly. Slowly Dhahabu leaned down and began licking them one by one, inhaling their scents simultaneously. "Have you thought of any names yet, my love?"

Mahiri regarded him with her brilliant green eyes. "Two of them, yes...I felt it best to let you name the heir." She nuzzled the first cub she had picked up, who had a cream pelt exactly like her own, and a small tuft of light brown mane. "This is our thirdborn son, Dhahabu...and since I have made Kiburi my home to stay, I have named him...Makani."

Then Mahiri touched the second cub, and as he rolled over into the light, Dhahabu gasped. The cub perfectly resembled Sulubu...dark brown fur, and a black tuft of mane. A thoughtful expression was on his little muzzle. "He I have named Busara." She looked up and smiled at Dhahabu.

Nodding, the prince lay down beside her and placed his forelegs to mirror hers, so that she could set the last cub, who was the one he had moved and was actually the firstborn, before him. He could see now why he had been so difficult to birth. The cub would clearly be as muscled as his father when he grew up, from his size.

For an eternal time Dhahabu looked down at his son...he could not speak. He could barely breathe. The golden tawny fur seemed to glow softly in the dawn light. A tuft of chestnut brown mane sprouted from his head between large, rounded ears. His precious little nose was a pale pink, and his creamy muzzle was buried in Dhahabu's fur. He could feel his cub's whiskers tickle his leg, and a tear ran down his cheek to splash on the stone beside his son.

He continued to examine the cub, as if to make sure everything was in working order. Four paws, quite large, with velvety pads. A short tail, a sprinkling of spots across his back and shoulders. A rounded belly and fuzzy chest. Everything was perfect, even, he noted wryly, his nether parts. In spite of the time it had taken to birth him, nothing was wrong.

Dhahabu locked gazes with Mahiri for another long moment, silently thanking her for such an intense love that it could result in this miracle he held in his paws. Then he looked back down as he felt a nuzzle. His throat constricted as he saw his son had curled up against his broad chest, a small smile on his face. Tenderly he placed his massive paw against his firstborn cub and cradled him close, relishing the feel of his fur.

Finally he lowered his head until his mane fell down onto his paws, brushing the cub. He licked the cub's ears and whispered. "And you...you my sweet angel, my cub of sunshine and love..." He nuzzled him again, and could feel the warmth of new life in him...could feel his small but strong heartbeat. "You shall be named...Mohatu."

* * *

"...and so that's why I haven't been to see you lately, Jahili," Taraji finished. "I've been run ragged, first by those attacks by that sadistic lion Kuchinja, and now by helping to take care of my brother's cubs. And are they ever a pawful!" The lioness chuckled, but then her expression changed as she saw the lion's downcast face. "What's wrong, Jahili?"

Hurriedly he raised his head and tried to smile. "Nothing, Taraji...I was just upset by those attacks. I don't want anything to happen to you or your lands."

This was a half-truth of course, Jahili thought to himself. Much more was wrong in his life. It was now two days since the birth of the cubs, and during that time Kuchinja had constantly hovered around him, asking why Taraji had not come at the appointed time, what she could be doing, if she could suspect the truth, what methods he had used to win her trust.

The young lion had carefully answered as completely as possible, suggesting trouble with the herds in the aftermath of the river blockage, or being called upon to bring food to Mahiri. At the same time he had to wonder himself what had occurred. He had prayed Taraji had not somehow learned his identity.

That fear had faded when she had come at last, and given him that familiar warm smile and nuzzle with which they always greeted one another. But when she had informed him of the reason for her delay, his heart had almost stopped all over again. The moment he had avoided for so long had finally happened. The cubs had been born...knowledge his father would desperately desire, and which, if he did not tell him, he would eventually learn from some other source. How was he to proceed?

There could be no other course...he could not let cubs only days old be harmed by his father...

Blinking, he looked up as he realized Taraji had spoken. "What?"

"I said it must be more than that, you look like your heart was trodden on. And that if you really feel so badly for us, we could always use another lion to help patrol the borders. I'm sure Dhahabu would gladly accept you..."

Jahili's eyes widened and he took a step back before he caught himself and regained control. "No...that would never work. I'm sorry, Taraji, but I am a rogue, and anyway your brother would never approve of me." A hurt look crossed her face, but he rushed on. "As to how I'm feeling...well I must confess, it pains me to hear of such beautiful cubs, and such a loving family, when I have no brothers or sisters, and so little love in my life." This was the absolute truth...simply not all of it.

"Oh, Jahili, I'm sorry...I didn't think of your past." Taraji gently embraced him, purring into his neck. Surprised to say the least, the lion enjoyed it nonetheless...at her warm touch a soft smile crossed his face.

"It's all right...I know you were just excited to be an aunt. From now on, I'll try not to get so depressed about it. I want you to be happy, and I can tell talking about the cubs makes you feel better."

Taraji smiled slightly. "Yes it does...they help me feel young again, and make me dream of the future, the cubs I will one day have myself."

Jahili blinked at this, then blushed. "Um..."

Taraji laughed. "Not anytime soon, Jahili..." She looked up and suddenly seemed to realize the position of the sun. "Oh my goodness...I have to get back to Kiburi."

The lion raised an eyebrow. "Why the rush?"

"I'm needed on the hunting party...there's to be a special ceremony in honor of the cubs' birth and we need to bring down special prey for it. A water buffalo, a giraffe, and several kudu."

"Oh..." Jahili filed that information away as something harmless he could tell his father. "Well then I will see you as soon as you can meet again. I have some new hunting techniques to show you." He grinned. "And I always miss you when you're away..."

The cinnamon lioness smiled. "That's so sweet, Jahili...I miss you too." She caressed his cheek with one paw, then turned back toward Kiburi. "You shall be in my thoughts until I return." Moving to a lope, she was soon far out on the savanna, heading home.

Jahili stared after her for long minutes...how he wished he could be in her world, her lands...that he could share in the love of her family, and provide her the happiness she desired. But that was a distant dream, especially as long as he remained living this lie, loving her yet knowing they could never be while Kuchinja's schemes festered and grew...

Sighing, the lion turned back toward the Majonzi, once more sifting through what he had learned, hoping he would not make a slip and reveal too much. No matter what the cost, he must not lose Taraji.

* * *

Kuchinja narrowed his single eye as Jahili bowed his head in submission before him. He still did not fully trust his son—he made all the right motions, said all the right words, but his father could sense his heart was not in it, not completely. Yet, as long as Jahili produced results, he had no reason to fault him...for now.

The tone when he spoke was brusque. "Report."

Jahili lifted his head. "The wildebeest herd has still not recovered. But your scheme to block the river was foiled...Dhahabu discovered the dam and broke through using elephants."

"Elephants...of course..." Kuchinja let a note of grudging respect enter his voice. "I hadn't counted on that...I give him credit for his ingenuity." He paused meaningfully. "And what of the cubs?"

There was a second of hesitation, and then Jahili shook his head. "They haven't been birthed yet, but Taraji thinks it will be soon."

Suspicion rose anew in Kuchinja, but he hid it well. "Surely you have more to report to me than that."

"I have learned some of Mahiri's history." The young lion raised an eyebrow. "She is the daughter of King Adhimu of the Kusini Pride."

Kuchinja's eye widened. "Kusini...a powerful pride. If Mfalme calls on Adhimu for aid..."

Jahili frowned. "If you intended to exert influence through Mahiri's pride, that is clearly impossible now."

"What I intend is not your concern...leave the planning to me." The gray lion's gaze burned into him. When Jahili shuffled his paws in the dust of the Majonzi and at last looked away, Kuchinja smirked slightly. "Now, is there anything else—however trivial? Anything could be important."

The mahogany lion shrugged. "Just news of another hunt. Water buffalo, giraffe, and kudu. Rather an odd assortment, I thought, but..."

Kuchinja had tuned him out. Breath caught in his throat, his mind raced. He had only known of that combination of prey being hunted in Kiburi once before...when Mwoga and her mate and sister had spied on the birth of Dhahabu and his siblings. It was a special choice, reserved only for the celebration feast in honor of the heir's birth...

Suddenly he realized Jahili had fallen silent and was staring at him, a strange look on his face—nervousness, discomfort, fear. "Is something wrong, Father?"

The gray lion pursed his lips thoughtfully. Either Jahili did not know of the cubs' birth, or the significance of this information...or he was lying. And he would find out which it was. "No, nothing at all...merely contemplating our next move." He turned toward the oasis behind him and chuffed.

Soon his brothers approached. Njaa gave him a questioning look. "Some new development, Kuchinja?"

"Yes, Njaa...Jahili has informed me there will soon be a hunt in Kiburi, but we were not invited." He pouted falsely. "Let us remedy that..."

After a quick explanation, Kuchinja insisted Jahili wait for them in the oasis, it would not do for anyone to see him in their midst. Jahili quickly agreed and padded off, thoughtful and worried. As soon as he was gone, Kuchinja smiled cruelly at Njaa. "Now, to implement my plan...in _full_."

"What do you mean?" The golden tawny lion took a step back.

"Oh, you and Tauni and Ushindi will still disrupt the hunt, to distract Mfalme and Dhahabu." The gray lion smirked. "But Kufa and Vita and I have a different target in mind...one much more defenseless..."

* * *

A soft mew echoed in the den, and Mahiri smiled in spite of her concern, opening her eyes to gaze down at Mohatu, who was pawing at her side. "And what do you want, little one?"

Mohatu mewed again.

"Oh really? Well I'll have to see about that..." Mahiri nuzzled the cub and then gently licked his ears, producing a small giggle. She smiled, the warmth in her gaze belying her discomfort. It had been hours since Dhahabu had come to her with the news that the Wahamiji were once again terrorizing the herds, this time the ones needed for the feast. Hours ago, he and Mfalme had gone to chase them off. And the more time passed, the greater her fear.

For a brief instant she regretted her decision to come to Kiburi. But then horror filled her being—how could she have thought such a thing? She loved Dhahabu, and now her cubs, with all her heart!

"Oh, Mohatu...I love you so much, and I thank the Kings for you, and your brothers." The cub's paws slipped out from under him and he fell forward against her chest. Smiling, she lifted her eyes to Busara and Makani, curled up against her belly. "I'm just so afraid...Father said I would have happiness with Dhahabu, but he didn't count on this intense danger."

A tear came to her eye. "I don't know how to protect you...but I will. Nothing will stand between us. Kiburi is my home now, too...I know you don't understand, so just feel my love and know I will always be with you."

Mahiri pulled Mohatu close as he mewed again and caressed him.

"How touching."

Inhaling sharply, the lioness brought her head up at the deep, threatening voice. Three dark forms blocked the cave entrance, the largest massive and gray with a burning hatred in his lone eye. "No...it can't be..."

Kuchinja grinned. "Oh but it is." He chuckled and eyed Mohatu's cowering form suggestively. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your son?"

Mahiri snarled. "How dare you!" She rose to her paws and placed herself in front of her cubs. "You will never touch any of my sons!"

The gray lion sneered. "Don't be too sure, Mahiri. And I will dare whatever it takes to reclaim my lands."

She met his gaze coldly. "But they are not yours. After what your father did as king, your family does not deserve to rule—"

A powerful blow cut her off. Mahiri cried out, holding a paw to the rising welt and bloody claw marks on her cheek. Kuchinja glared at her, shuddering with rage. "You know not what you say...my father ruled with an iron paw, but that was the only way to maintain control."

"You know _nothing_ of kingship," the cream lioness snapped. "My father Adhimu has no need for cruelty and violence—he rules by respect and love, not fear and hatred."

"Ah yes...Adhimu. Another fool like Mfalme." Kuchinja smiled slyly as Mahiri bristled. "You belong with him you know...this is not your fight. I can grant you safe passage home, with your cubs, if you agree to abandon Dhahabu now. I am generous with those who do not defy me."

Mahiri stared at him incredulously. How could he think she would... "No! I will never leave Dhahabu. This is indeed my fight now. My father is Mfalme's friend, and I love Dhahabu deeply." She pressed her mouth together in disgust. "But then you wouldn't understand that, since you don't know what love is, do you?"

Kuchinja rolled his eye and began circling the rocky hollow, forcing the lioness to constantly shift in order to keep herself between him and the cubs. "Love...that's all anyone can ever talk about, isn't it? It's highly overrated...and frankly, enough to make my flesh crawl."

The cream lioness's mouth parted in disbelief at the utter lack of emotion in his voice, the flippant delivery of such cruel words. For a moment her rancor faded and she peered into his eye with sincerity. "You really _don't_ understand love..."

Kuchinja stepped back a pace, caught with his guard down. But then the sarcasm returned. "Save your pity, lioness. Power is all I need...and vengeance."

"Then your life will be as empty as your heart. Eventually you will have no one, you will realize you have driven away or ignored everything and everyone that could have spared you pain and suffering." She nodded emphatically. "I only hope I am there to see it."

Stunned, Kuchinja could only step close, dwarfing her, trying to intimidate her as his muscles quivered with tension. "You may not be...for now you have thrown your lot in with Kiburi, and your fate is sealed."

Mahiri lifted her head defiantly. "Yes it is...it is forever tied to Dhahabu. And of that I am proud. But you, too, have set your own course."

"I would have it no other way." He clenched his jaw.

"Then you will die."

Unable to contain his growing anger longer, Kuchinja roared in outrage and slammed his paw into her shoulder, sending her hurtling into the wall of the cave. Stars appeared before her eyes, and she could feel thick blood flowing down her head. Dimly she could hear the lion's voice lash out. "You should pay attention to the here and now—it is not my life in danger!"

Moaning, Mahiri leaned against the wall and struggled shakily to her paws. "Maybe...so. But it is not...my soul...that is in danger..."

"If you mean the Great Kings," Kuchinja snarled with contempt, "I care little for them, they abandoned me long ago. I choose my own fate."

Before she could manage to force another retort out, the lion was at her side, grabbing hold of her scruff with one paw. "And now I choose yours as well..."

Already weak from the birthing, she could not resist as he flung her to the ground once more. Slowly darkness began to sweep over her. But as she looked up, she saw something that galvanized her strength and desperation.

Kuchinja stood over the shivering forms of Busara and Makani...and Mohatu hung from his jaws.

She tried to crawl in his direction, finally making it to her paws. But as she flung herself at him, Kufa leapt at her and knocked her aside. Lying pinned beneath the lion, she began to weep. "Please...don't take my cubs! Please..."

Vita spoke for his brother, whose mouth was full. "He will not be harmed...as long as Dhahabu complies with our demands."

Suddenly Kuchinja cried out in pain. To Mahiri's shock, Mohatu was growling, swiping at him with his tiny claws unsheathed, and he was landing blows on the lion's sensitive muzzle. As she watched, the cub kicked at the air for a few seconds before his claws scraped along the lion's throat. Instinctively Kuchinja cried out—and Mohatu dropped to the cave floor. Scrambling madly, he was soon beside his brothers, pressed back against the wall and snarling.

Even as pride filled her heart, Kuchinja chuckled. "A feisty one...I will enjoy beating the defiance and will to fight out of him."

Mahiri's hope died, and her head sank to the floor. Kuchinja noticed and nodded. "At last you understand. There is no one to help you now."

"I wouldn't count on that!"

At once all the lions turned as all the light was blocked from the cave. Tembo stood in the entrance, eyes blazing and tusks upraised so that they glinted in the light. Mahiri, looking up and sobbing in grateful relief, was pleased to see genuine fear on Kuchinja's face.

"You have two minutes to vacate this cave, and the lands of Kiburi, before I rip open your underbellies and spill your bowels out on the stone. Or would you like to see what your prey looks like after you've eaten it?" Tembo grinned savagely and raised his tusks.

Kuchinja managed a snarl, but one look at the razor-sharp edges of Tembo's tusks was enough to make him back down. Together the lions pressed their bellies against the stone as they slipped past the elephant. Kufa and Vita continued to shiver in fear, but Kuchinja's expression suggested boiling rage held in check only by common sense. As he passed Tembo, the elephant gave him a superior look. "I should just break your back right now...but Mahiri needs healing and I can't take time out for recreation."

With one last growl, Kuchinja made it past Tembo and rose to his full height. "Mark my words, tusked one, I shall return!"

Tembo tossed his head. "I'm sure you will...and I will be waiting for you. Now get out of my sight, you sicken me!"

With extreme reluctance, Kuchinja and his brothers at last fled the vicinity of the dens, heading westward.

As the elephant ducked down and moved his head into the den, Mahiri stumbled to her cubs and began bathing them endlessly, to their annoyance. Now that the threat was gone the cubs had forgotten it, rolling and crawling across the stone. Tembo smiled, watching Mohatu move to his mother's side and head-butt her, clearly demanding milk. Groaning in pain, Mahiri lay down and obliged. As Mohatu greedily drank, the lioness looked up at Tembo in gratitude. "Thank you, Tembo...I am in your debt."

Tembo shook his head, ears flapping. "No, Mahiri...you are the mate of my dear friend, and also the future queen of this pride. I would give my life for you, or your cubs, without a second thought." He bowed his head to the cave floor.

Mahiri smiled as the dignity of the moment was broken by Busara, who happened to be next to Tembo's draped trunk and was now attacking it as best he could, tiny claws scratching at the rough gray flesh. The elephant laughed delightedly.

After watching Busara for some time, he looked back to Mahiri. "I will stay here with you until Dhahabu returns and you can receive healing."

"That's not necessary. The dizziness has already passed, and my wounds are not that serious." Mahiri tried not to show the pain on her face.

"I insist." Tembo eyed her meaningfully. "It may be more serious than you think."

Finally Mahiri consented and then lowered her head to her cubs once more.

It was only ten minutes later that Dhahabu returned. He was confused by Tembo's presence, but his emotions soon changed to anger and worry. "Tembo, what happened?" He rushed to Mahiri's side, quickly nuzzling each cub to make sure it was safe. Mohatu swiped playfully at his muzzle while lying on his back, but Dhahabu was soon embracing Mahiri, licking her wounds with profound gentleness.

"Who do you think happened?" Tembo muttered. "Kuchinja."

The prince seemed to grow in size, his muscles swelling with wrath and an instinctive desire to kill. "He will pay...I will see him suffer for this." He gazed down at Mohatu and finally gained control, his expression softening. "And my son will receive the feast he deserves. I will guard him with my life...Kuchinja will never take him from us."

Scooping the cubs close, Dhahabu continued embracing Mahiri, his mane sliding soothingly across her shoulder and neck.

* * *

Dhahabu was true to his word. With the Wahamiji driven off once more, the prey was brought down, and the feast went off without a hitch. Mahiri, treated by the pride's leopard healer, was given a place of honor, and all the lionesses of the pride showered affection upon the little cubs, who seemed rather confused by all the strange faces and voices.

Their eyes, which had begun to open during the confrontation with Kuchinja, were now wide as they stared at all the animals who had come to see them, particularly the elephants. Tembo was the first to point out that Busara, who seemed to have taken a fascination with his trunk, had gray eyes like his father.

After this no one could refrain from commenting on the cubs' large eyes. Makani, it was revealed, had blue eyes like his aunt Taraji, and Mohatu had the shining golden brown eyes of his uncle Malachi. All three were full of mischief...but as Dhahabu watched them play with each other, he began to have an inkling of their personalities.

The youngest, Makani, was quite shy, hanging back from the others quite often. Busara was much more outgoing, but at the same time Dhahabu caught him staring thoughtfully off into space every now and then... "He will be a dreamer," he murmured to Mahiri, prompting a smile.

Mohatu was the most mischievous of all. Although he could not get around well yet, it was not for want of trying. Full of spirit and energy, the oldest cub was rambunctious, frequently chewing on his father's forepaws and tail, though luckily he did not yet have his sharp cub teeth.

Dhahabu kept a close eye on him, never letting him out of his sight, and thus he was able to witness many of his early successes—his first steps, his first pounce, his first growl. The prince was very protective of his sons, but at the same time he knew he had to let them have their freedom. And, he noted wryly, Mohatu was very much like he had been as a cub...

The weeks passed quickly after that, and it seemed like the cubs were growing and changing every hour. By the second week they had learned to speak, and it made his heart swell to hear their innocent voices and laughter. After about a month, Dhahabu was able to turn over the border watch to Mfalme and Taraji, leaving him free to focus on his sons. He always made sure to spend time with Makani and Busara, taking them on outings to suit their interests.

For Busara this meant frequent visits to the elephant herd, for he had a fascination about the great gray beasts and pestered Dhahabu with endless questions about them, some of which he had to appeal to Tembo to for the answers. Makani, as quiet as he was, preferred simple talks upon hilltops, watching the clouds roll across the sky. Like his brother, he often surprised his father with his curiosity and his insights into life. In particular Makani sensed early on the connections between all the animals, and their roles.

Mohatu, however, was something of a challenge to Dhahabu. He too was highly intelligent, but he seemed content not to make use of it. Instead he engaged in endless play, and while Dhahabu knew this was crucial to his development, he also worried that Mohatu would not learn what he needed to know to make him a good king.

And so, one day three months after their birth, Dhahabu made the resolution to awaken Mohatu's sense of responsibility. He spent a blissful day in play with all the cubs, letting them attack his muscled chest and belly as he lay on his back in the grass, and he returned the favor by chasing them across the savanna and rubbing their heads as he pulled them close. Then, as the sun was setting, he finally rested on a large rock and watched Mohatu pounce on Busara, pinning him to the ground and laughing while Makani sat nearby, a small smile on his face.

"Ha! Got ya!" Mohatu stuck his tongue out at his brother and struck a superior pose.

"That's what you think..." Catching him off guard, Busara shoved the golden tawny cub away and rolled with him across the ground.

"Who said you could do that?" Mohatu demanded as Busara pinned him in turn. "I'm the heir!"

The dark brown cub scowled. "Oh yeah, Mr. High and Mighty, you're so special!" He snorted. "As if you did anything to earn it..."

Snarling, Mohatu swiped his brother, knocking him away. Busara got to his paws and glared at him, but at that moment Dhahabu stepped in. "Hold on, don't let your temper get the better of you, Busara...like Mohatu did." The prince gave Mohatu a severe look, and was rewarded by a contrite expression.

"But, Dad, he—"

"Nevermind what he did. I'll talk to him, all right?"

Busara nodded reluctantly.

"Now you go play with Makani, I'll be here if you need me." Dhahabu watched his two youngest cubs scamper off, then turned to Mohatu with a sigh. "Mohatu, what do you think you were doing?"

"Dad, he made fun of me! What's the word...he mocked me, said I wasn't good enough to be the next king!" The cub's jaw was set, and his eyes blazed with anger.

Dhahabu shook his head. "That's not what I heard. Busara didn't need to be bitter, that's true, and I'll talk to him about that. But you...Mohatu, you were suggesting you were better than him because you're the heir."

"Well aren't I?" the golden tawny cub demanded.

The prince was stunned by the question, then realized it was asked in complete innocence...Mohatu really didn't know the truth. He sat down slowly. "Son, no lion is better than another. I thought I taught you that."

Mohatu cocked his head, flicking an ear. "Yeah...but you always spend more time with me than you do with Busara or Makani."

Dhahabu sighed. "That's because you're the heir, but that doesn't make you better than them." When the cub looked confused, he gently lifted his chin and gazed into his eyes. "Mohatu, the reason I have to spend more time with you is because it is so important you know what you need to do in order to be a good king...Busara is right, you do have to earn the right to rule. It takes a long time to learn what it takes to do that. I haven't even learned it completely yet."

Mohatu frowned and placed an oversized paw on Dhahabu's own. "But Dad, you're a great lion, you know everything!"

Dhahabu chuckled. "I wish that were so. But it's not. Mohatu, you have to realize everyone is always learning in this life. The Circle is always shifting, and change is inevitable. It affects everyone, every animal."

The cub made a face. "Well who cares about them...lions are better anyway."

Dhahabu blinked. "Who told you that?"

"No one." Mohatu shrugged. "I figured it out myself from watching the herds. They all bow to you and Grandpa, so they can't be worth much compared to us."

Dhahabu groaned and put his face in one paw.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

The prince looked at him pointedly. "Son, you couldn't be more wrong. Do you want to know why the herds really bow to us?"

Mohatu nodded.

"It's because they respect us. They know we have the power and strength to hunt and kill them. But they serve us at their own discretion, if they all joined together they could destroy us without a second thought!" The cub's jaw dropped open. Heartened, Dhahabu continued.

"But they don't do that because they see it as an honor to be our prey. When we hunt them, they will always run because they wish to protect their lives and that of their offspring, but they know it is a part of the Circle that some must die so that others may live.

"And that is why we in turn must respect them, and know we are not superior to them. We may have the hunting skill, but if not for them we would starve. They know we have the intelligence and strength of heart to rule the lands with fairness and make sure all get enough to eat, but we must always keep in mind that the animals we hunt play a critical role."

His voice softened. "Each animal must be loved and honored for what it can do. The ant...so small, yet able to carry a tremendous weight. The eagle, soaring on the currents of the air, where we can never reach. The baboon, with his flexible hands that can do so much more than our paws..."

Mohatu's eyes were wide with the dawning of knowledge. Clearly he had never considered the other animals in this light. "What about the hyenas?"

Dhahabu swallowed and took a deep breath. "Well...I know that we always chase them out of our lands, but that is for a very good reason. Hyenas are scavengers, and if we let them roam at will, they would deprive us of our prey. But at the same time, they are necessary. If not for the hyenas, the savannas would become overwhelmed by the bodies of the dead."

The cub curled up his lip. "They eat rotten meat?"

Dhahabu nodded. "That's why they have such a strong smell. But that is no reason to dislike them. As I said...every animal is important."

Mohatu was silent, staring off as he turned all he had heard over in his mind. Above, the sky had darkened to an intense blue, and the stars sparkled in thick patches and isolated points.

"You see, son...that's just a small part of the responsibility of being a king." He caressed Mohatu's head with his massive paw. "A king is no better than any other...and in fact what is asked of us can often be almost too much to handle. But we must always remember, others are counting on us." He stared up at the stars. "The Great Kings count on us too...just as they had the same responsibility when they ruled."

The cub raised an eyebrow. "The Great Kings?"

Dhahabu smiled. "Yes, son...every star you see is a king, they are all the kings who reigned before us."

Mohatu looked confused. "But I thought Grandpa was the first Lion King."

"He is...but there have been other kings, in other prides and other lands in Africa."

"Oh." The cub watched the stars twinkling brightly, and then sighed. "Looks like I have a long way to go before I can be as wise or good as you and Grandpa."

Dhahabu leaned close and nuzzled his son. "No, not at all...you see, you know there is a problem. And you are learning already." He purred in Mohatu's ear.

"But Dad, I just wanna play..." The cub frowned. "I wouldn't make a good king."

The prince sighed. "There is nothing wrong with having fun! I loved to play myself when I was your age."

"You did?" Mohatu's voice was incredulous.

Dhahabu laughed. "Yeah, your boring father used to do nothing but pounce all day."

The golden tawny cub blushed. "I didn't mean it like that, Dad...I just can't see you as small as me."

"Well, it's true. And see how well I turned out? A balance can be struck between having fun and learning. I know you will succeed. And one day you too will have a star." Dhahabu licked his son's ear, his voice filled with love. "I can see the goodness in your heart...your star will shine the brightest of all."

Mohatu, who had been grimacing at the lick, looked away, embarrassed. "Maybe. But that doesn't matter." He jutted his chin out. "I just wanna be a great king here in Kiburi...I wanna make things better for everyone, so they don't have to worry about mean lions like Kuchinja." He sighed. "And I wanna find some way to repay all the animals for respecting us. I don't know how, but I'm gonna make it up to them."

Tears in his eyes, Dhahabu embraced his son. "That is a powerful promise to make...but if anyone can keep it, it's you, Mo." He smiled as he purposely used his personal nickname for the cub.

Mohatu was crying too as he hugged his father's leg. "Thanks Dad..."

Together father and son sat beneath the stars as night enveloped the land, and the stars shone with crystalline light. The valley below lay in shadow, but it was a friendly darkness, warm and welcoming. And in the blackness, small streams shivered in the starlight, winking between the trees. Gazing up, Dhahabu regarded the stars, and noticed with surprise that one of them had grown considerably brighter, and it seemed to be shining in their direction.

A look of peace crossed his face. He did not know if it were Sulubu, but whichever king or lion it was, he could feel approval radiating out...assurance that even amongst the terror of the Wahamiji, the future had been secured, and he was following the right path.

* * *

Hunkered down in the shade of an acacia, Ukware gazed with narrowed eyes at the forms of Taraji and Jahili seated on their haunches several feet away, and upwind. It was difficult to stay awake and to keep his attention on the pair, but Kuchinja's orders had been firm. It was now four months since the aborted attempt to spirit away the days old cub Mohatu, and ever since then the gray lion had lain low, biding his time to avoid that menace of an elephant, Tembo, instead counting on Jahili to provide the information he would need.

But the young lion had not been forthcoming. He continued to meet with Taraji of course, but he had given little that would aid their cause. So Kuchinja had directed the hyena to follow his son and spy on him, to learn his methods and see if they could be improved. And also to see if he was telling the truth. It had never been determined whether Jahili had lied about the cubs' birth, or simply had not been told by Taraji. But now, Ukware would find out...

The hyena's mind wandered as the heat of the day beat down on him through the acacia leaves. For a moment he turned over the thought of leaving Kuchinja's employ...not because he was disloyal, but because he was beginning to think their alliance was doomed to failure. Every one of the lion's schemes had failed, except the death of Sulubu...and that had cost the lives of Mjinga and Mwizi.

Ukware shook his head. That had been the fault of Mfalme, and that blasted Tembo. He could not blame Kuchinja. And besides...Mwoga still served him, she believed he was the key to their revenge. And to more...

Memories replayed, his mother's whispered words of the glorious days when Giza still lived, when she and his father and aunt had followed the dark tyrant and had received the respect and power they deserved. "That's how it was, and should be, and will be again," she had insisted. "Hyenas are more than just scavengers, and Giza knew it. Kuchinja knows it. One day the whole blasted savanna will know it..."

Smirking, Ukware nodded to himself. His mother was right. And he would do whatever was needed to secure that future...that he swore in his father's name.

Hearing Taraji's voice rising on the wind, he cocked his head, and listened...

* * *

The lioness raised her head, frowning. "I'm sorry, Jahili...but ever since Mohatu was almost taken by Kuchinja, Dhahabu has insisted I stay close to home more often. For my safety, and for the cubs' safety as well. And he does not want me to speak of the cubs anymore. I...probably should not even have told you they were born..."

Jahili's own expression was one of guilt and shame. He did not know how, but something he had told his father had led to that aborted raid on Mahiri's den. If something had happened to her or the cubs, he would never have forgiven himself. "I understand, Taraji. And I agree...perhaps it is best if we not see each other for a while. I would never want to place your pride in danger."

Taraji inhaled and quickly took a step back. "No, no! You misunderstand me...I'm not saying we should stop seeing each other...I don't know if I could live with that!" She paused. "We just have to be more careful, that's all."

The mahogany lion eyed her. She was more right than she knew...great care had to be taken, or all would be lost. "All right...but how do you want to proceed then? I know you can't talk to me about your pride anymore, because your brother wouldn't trust me if he knew of me...so what is left for us?"

The cinnamon lioness closed her eyes in thought. "I don't know...all I know is, we belong together."

Jahili locked gazes with her as she opened her eyes. "I feel the same...is it for the reason I think it is?"

Slowly Taraji stepped close to him and sat on her haunches. "If you mean, do I love you...the answer is yes."

Jahili swallowed hard. "And I love you as well, Taraji." He lowered his muzzle to hers, unable to resist the growing attraction, and kissed her passionately.

Neither lion noticed the soft hiss from the shadows...or the dark gray form that retreated through the grass until it was beyond detection, then turned and vanished into the savanna, racing toward the north...and the Majonzi.

* * *

Breathing hard, Jahili stepped back. "My love, you should go back now, before things become more...personal...than they already have. Your brother will be missing you as it is." All of this was true, but the lion's thoughts were racing along other pathways. The love had grown and been professed...he didn't care if it was forbidden, there was no way he could hurt her now. But there was one more thing he must do before he could decide on his future course.

Taraji sighed. "You're right...I just don't want to leave you, I fear something terrible will happen if I do."

The lion nuzzled her tenderly. "No...I won't let it. Head home. We will meet again in five days, all right?"

Reluctantly the lioness nodded. "I will miss you, Jahili...the days won't go by fast enough."

Jahili watched as she turned away in sorrow and departed for the Kiburi Lands. Then, when she had passed out of sight, he turned back toward his homelands. It was time to face Kuchinja, to tell him that he could no longer do this. He cared for him, but could not ruin others' lives to gain his love and trust. And now that he had Taraji, he didn't need him anymore...

Yet as he loped onward, he could not help but feel a heaviness in his heart—for the family he had lost, and was about to lose. For he feared this decision would forever sever him from the uncle he loved dearly...Kuchinja would never let him remain on good terms with Njaa...

Tears filled his eyes. "Once again, I am an outcast..."

* * *

(A/N: Obviously I had to introduce Dhahabu's cubs, but they aren't going to play a large role in the story so don't worry too much about remembering their names. Except Mohatu, whom many of you will know from the book The Brightest Star—I was in fact setting up for that here; more on him later. Anyway, not much else to say here, hope you all enjoyed getting to see both Mahiri and Tembo being badass. And of course things are building up toward some revelations and unfortunate developments. The next chapter will be rather dark. R/R!)


	8. Chapter 8: A Son's Grief

_(WARNING: Graphic violence in this chapter, as well as sexual situations and some disturbing intercuts. If you're easily squicked, my apologies, but as Mufasa said in the prologue, the Circle of Life is not always kind.)_

* * *

**Chapter 8: A Son's Grief**

Kuchinja paced restlessly beneath the trees at the edge of the jungle, sending quick darting glances out into the Majonzi. Warning signals had been tripped in his mind—something had gone wrong, he could feel it. When Ukware returned, he knew instinctively he would bear ill tidings. And not of Jahili's lack of success...no, it would be of Jahili himself.

The massive lion's fevered brain turned over the same thoughts again and again, hearkening back to the day he had first exiled his son. The contempt he had shown for Giza had enraged him...he had been so close to ripping Jahili's tongue from his throat. But he had not, for the sake of his brothers and for the memory of Tisho. Then, a scant few days later, Njaa had come to him, with news that Jahili had returned and requested an audience.

Kuchinja had accosted his brother with such vituperations...in retrospect he could not recall Njaa ever looking so pale in his life. But when he had finally calmed down enough to listen, the prospect of Jahili aiding him in his efforts with Mfalme had seemed too good to be true. He had been unwilling to trust or believe, but his son had been convincing...yet now all he could think was that he had been played.

So absorbed was he in his paranoid contemplations that the lion did not notice the hyena's approach until he stepped into the cool dampness of the shadows beside him. "Kuchinja..."

He flinched and turned quickly. "Ukware! Never come upon me unawares like that again!"

Ukware was nonplussed, but only shrugged and bowed. "Whatever you say, my king."

Kuchinja growled softly, then gave a perfunctory nod and came straight to the point. "What have you heard?"

The hyena's eyes burned. When his response came, it was utterly blunt. "You have been betrayed."

There was a dead silence. After several long minutes, Kuchinja spoke, his voice ominously hushed. "What did you say?"

"Jahili...I heard Taraji tell him they could not speak of Dhahabu's cubs ever again...suggesting they had discussed them before. And then she noted she should not even have told him of their birth." Ukware's eyes had narrowed to slits. "He lied to you, sire..."

Though his exterior remained calm, save for heightened breathing, Kuchinja's mind was aflame with careening thoughts. His suspicions were confirmed—Jahili was as worthless as he had always known him to be! But then he paused in confusion. Why would his son lie to him, when he had promised to acquire information from Taraji? It made no sense...

When he looked back to Ukware, the hyena's expression was grim. "And there is more...much worse."

Kuchinja stared in disbelief. "What could be worse?"

"Jahili is in love with Taraji."

The words were like a shard of slate piercing his heart. For a moment Kuchinja stopped breathing altogether, eye bulging, spine stiff. Then, as the import of this exploded through him, every stray piece of the puzzle fell together, and with a roar of pure anguish, wrath, and despair, the lion unleashed his claws on the nearest tree, ripping its bark and trunk to shreds, slashing and gouging deeply until at last he severed it. Seething with hate, he watched the tree collapse to the ground, shoulders heaving.

Turning back, Kuchinja was surprised and pleased to see Ukware had neither fled nor cringed at his tirade. The only sign he was stunned was his slightly widened eyes. "You are sure of this?"

The hyena nodded. "I heard it from their own mouths. And I saw them become intimate." He curled his lip.

Digging his claws into the soil, Kuchinja closed his eye and struggled to contain his fury. How...how could Jahili do this. It was utterly wrong, unforgivable. Yet no wonder he had lied, and had offered so little. He did not know whether this had all been a fabrication from the beginning, or if Jahili had only fallen for Taraji's enticing wiles and sensuous charms after drawing close to her during his tenure as a spy, but it didn't matter. The effect was the same. And his son must now be punished...

Kuchinja opened his eye and regarded Ukware once more. "Did he know he was followed?"

The hyena shook his head vigorously. "He would never have been so candid if he had. And he did not see me, or know when I departed."

The gray lion smirked slightly. "All for the better." Slowly he stalked to the edge of the jungle and peered into the quavering air, the brilliant light. "By now he is sure to be returning...and I shall be waiting most eagerly for him when he arrives..."

* * *

When Jahili at last stumbled to a halt at the edge of the jungle, he leaned against a tree for a moment, catching his breath. Then, as his gasps faded and he managed to look up, he was suddenly aware of the deathly silence beneath the dark canopy. No birds sang. No shrews or other rodents scampered through the brush. Even the air was still. All he could sense was a dark brooding presence.

Fearfully he pushed away from the tree and moved into the center of the path, glancing guardedly around him. "Who's there?"

A low, rumbling growl echoed through the foliage, and then a faceless wraith of a lion slipped through the impenetrable cloaking shadows to approach him. Only when a lone sunbeam sliced through the leaves to splash across the lion's face did Jahili recognize him...he fell back at the look on Kuchinja's face.

"Why it's your father, Jahili..." His sinister chuckle sent a chill through the young lion. "Why whatever is the matter? Aren't you going to tell me about your latest foray with Taraji?"

Something in the other's tone made Jahili want to shriek and scramble away...instinctively he felt it...his father knew. Somehow he knew!

Trying to cover his panic, the mahogany lion cleared his throat. "Of course, Father. That's what I came here to talk to you about."

"Is it?" Kuchinja sneered. "Or did you come only to tell me half the story?"

"What are you talking about?" Jahili snapped.

The gray lion stepped close until his breath touched the other's face. "I am referring to the information I never received...the lie you told about the birth of Dhahabu's cubs."

Jahili's stomach clenched. "But...but I..."

"No excuses, son. For once stand up for what you did!"

The lion stood up straighter...his father was right. "All right, I did lie. But only to protect those cubs. For Aiheu's sake, Father, they were only a few days old! They were no threat! And you didn't have to take them, or kill them...once Dhahabu stepped down they would be only ordinary cubs."

Kuchinja contemplated him for a time, as if he were actually considering Jahili's logic as worth accepting. "Perhaps. But it was unwise of you to second-guess my decisions, or to offer protection to any member of Kiburi..."

"I would do it again in an instant, Father. No cub deserves to die. And I had no choice." His jaw hardened.

The eyebrow over the gray lion's empty socket lifted, providing a sharper view of the unnerving mass of scar tissue that lay therein. "No...choice?"

Jahili shuddered, but pressed on. There was no turning back now...whatever his father knew or didn't know, he had to lay the truth out. "Yes. My principles would not let me do otherwise. I know this conquest is what you desire. I tried to assist the only way I knew how. But I cannot continue, Father. Not when so many lives could be destroyed by your vendetta. Not when it would only result in the ruin of the lands you crave. Have you not thought of that? All your attacks...the wildebeest slaughter, the dam...they only serve to erase the future you wish to preserve!"

His voice became more impassioned, insistent. "Everything you have done will only hinder your efforts...Mfalme is old, Father. Why not let him die on his own, and make some sort of deal with Dhahabu? Partitioning the lands, perhaps?"

He took a breath, and then saw the look of ridicule enter his father's eyes before he burst into uncontrolled laughter.

"You...you actually think...that after what Mfalme did to my father, your grandfather, that I would let him die peacefully? That I would broker a deal with the son of a murderer?" Kuchinja's laughs were soon replaced by a vicious snarl. "You are too soft, Jahili—always thinking with your heart! What an utter fool..."

"I may be a fool," Jahili replied quietly, struggling to contain the pain within him, "but at least I will be an honest one...one untainted by your hatred and cruelty. One true to myself."

"That is where you are wrong once again, my erstwhile spy." Kuchinja paced slowly forward to stand in front of him, single eye trained on his face with a coldness that locked Jahili's voice in his throat. "You shall be true to me, and me alone...or you will join the vaunted Kings."

His forepaw lifted, claws unsheathed, to press against his son's jugular.

Frozen in place, Jahili swallowed.

"Nothing to say now, is there?" Kuchinja grinned fiendishly. "Give up this pointless crusade, Jahili. I know what I must do, Mfalme and his family will suffer until they return to me what is rightfully mine...and forget about the damage to the lands. They are resilient, they will recover." He squeezed the lion's throat. "I cannot say the same of you..."

Jahili's eyes bored into his. "Would you really kill me? Simply because I disagree with you, and won't help you?"

Kuchinja did not hesitate. "Yes. And also because I know you will stand in my way."

The mahogany lion took a deep breath. "You might as well do it then. Because I will not change my mind."

His father stared at him incredulously. "You would die for your worthless principles?" He snorted. "You don't have the nerve to be a martyr."

Pride filled Jahili's eyes—he had found a well of strength and tapped deeply into it. "You'd be surprised at the things you don't know about me, Father."

Kuchinja looked into his eyes and saw the intense determination burning there. He let his paw fall away...though he could kill him, he could see Jahili was stronger than he had thought, and his death would not bring the conquest he sought. Then a sly smile formed. Another death, however, might produce results...

"Perhaps so, Jahili." Kuchinja let a note of nonchalance enter his voice. "But I believe I can still surprise you...if I, for example, took the liberty of obtaining Taraji." He smiled as he saw the look of horror on Jahili's face. "I can kill her easily...unless, of course, you were to continue to aid my efforts against Mfalme."

The lion shook his head adamantly. "You don't know her—she would fight you. She is beyond your reach."

"I think not," Kuchinja replied coolly. "When she comes to meet you again, it will be a simple matter for six lions to subdue her." He watched the growing fury in Jahili's eyes, and his own grew to match it. Ukware was right...he did love her...

"No. I won't let you," Jahili growled.

"And why not?" Kuchinja stepped closer again, forcing his son to retreat until he was backed up against a tree. "Why should you care what happens to Taraji? She was only the victim of your espionage...I'm sure if she knew she wouldn't have anything more to do with you..."

Jahili snarled. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, but I would." He could feel the bile rising in his throat as his rage burned unquenched...him, and Taraji, together! "But why should it matter? You don't need her..."

"But I do!" Desperation crept into Jahili's words.

"Why?" Kuchinja pressed.

"Because...she's not like any other lioness I've known..."

Kuchinja snorted. "You haven't known any other lionesses! You can do better than that."

"She understands me." His voice quivered.

"If she knew who you were, that understanding would be gone." The gray lion chuckled. "Why should you believe it would survive such a revelation?"

"It would!"

"Why?"

"Because we love each other!"

There...it was out. Jahili crumpled within himself. All was already lost...what more could the truth hurt?

Gradually Kuchinja looked up. When he spoke it was one word that broke Jahili's heart. "So?"

The mahogany lion struggled to explain. "We were meant for each other, I can feel it! When we're together I feel whole, and so does she! We both know what it's like to be alone, but when we are with each other that fades away...we are at last happy." He shook with emotion. "Please, Father...don't take this away from me!"

"And why shouldn't I?" Kuchinja's voice was cold. "You took away my chance of finally becoming the king I was destined to be."

Jahili roared in outrage. "Forget about your damn throne for once, Father! Forget about the past, forget about what you have lost—it's irrelevant, it's elephant dung! I am here before you, now. I am your son. Why can't you be happy for me for once in your miserable life?"

The gray lion seemed to swell in size as his fury grew. His words were bitten off like slices of a gazelle's underbelly. "Happy? For you? For a mewling, weak, emotional, pathetic..." He let loose a string of curses that made Jahili blanch. "Not when you can't be happy for me. Not when you deny your heritage, turn your back on my father, and undermine everything I've worked for years for!"

Jahili gave in to his instincts and slashed his father across the face. "Grandfather is dead! A tyrant is dead! He is everything I am not, and will never be!"

Chest heaving, he watched as Kuchinja turned back, blood running in thin rivulets down his face. "Then you are a traitor...and do not belong in this family. But I am not finished with you! You will lead Taraji here, you will help me make her a hostage, or I swear your blood will stain the earth at my paws, and hers as well..."

In the sudden stillness, father and son faced each other, and for a moment there was no difference between them, their eyes smoldered with the same molten hatred. Then Jahili spat on the ground. "I would rather be fed to the jackals then to lift one pad of my paw to help you again."

Kuchinja lifted his paw, but before he could strike Jahili, the other's words seemed to sink in, and slowly, a wicked grin appeared. "Fed to the jackals...what a marvelous idea..."

Jahili blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Why, Jahili, I am only referring to the perfect solution to my problems, one which you have just given me." Kuchinja laughed aloud. "If I cannot kill poor, old Mfalme by myself, if he is too well protected...then why not have the jackals do it for me? I am sure they would enjoy immensely the feeling of digging their teeth into his ample flesh..."

"You're insane!" the young lion cried.

"No...I only know what I must do to win Kiburi back. Mfalme killed my father...now I will watch the jackals reave his life away..." Kuchinja smirked.

Jahili was no longer thinking. Only seeing the image of a lion, an innocent lion, Taraji's father, the one who toppled a sadistic king, being torn apart so hideously, he leapt toward his father, fangs bared. "Not if I can help it!"

But as he fell upon Kuchinja, the other lion, who had been goading him all along, knew what was coming and was prepared. Even as Jahili's jaws closed over Kuchinja's neck, the gray lion swiped a massive paw at the side of his head with stunning force. His teeth let go, and Jahili fell back. Kuchinja struck again, throwing his son into the side of a tree.

Groaning, the young lion collapsed to the ground, his last view one of his father standing over him in contempt as his vision swam and he fell into unconsciousness...

For a long moment, Kuchinja stared down unemotionally. At last he kicked Jahili's side. "Fool. You could have been so much more...I'd kill you now, but I have a larger zebra to catch." Leaning down, he grabbed Jahili roughly by the scruff and tossed him up to sprawl across his powerful back. Then he turned and headed out into the Majonzi, along the edge of the jungle. "I will deal with you more fully when I can give you my undivided attention...for now, you will be unable to warn your precious Taraji. Not before it is too late for that murderer Mfalme."

Snorting in disgust, Kuchinja stalked into the blaze of sunlight, his shoulders shifting beneath Jahili's limp body as he bore him away.

* * *

A blissful smile upon his face, Mfalme lay curled in Malkia's embrace, the warmth of his love and passion for her still burning through him, his body cooling only reluctantly. As his tail intertwined with hers and patted against the stone, he pressed his muzzle into the curve of her neck, licking her softly all the way up to her ears. His mate moaned, burying her face in his fragrant mane. "Oh, Mfalme...you still know how to enchant me. You haven't lost your romantic touch." She grinned slyly. "Or your agility..."

Mfalme let out a deep chuckle, caressing her side with one massive paw as he nuzzled her shoulder and pulled her closer. "You inspire me..." The lion rubbed against her, relishing the feel of her warm fur against his. "You always have, my love, and you always will."

Eyes shining with devotion, Malkia uttered a soft sound of love and appreciation before lifting her head to lick his muzzle. Then she kissed him...

The two lions were still licking when Dhahabu cleared his throat. "Now I know where I get it from," he commented dryly.

Mfalme turned toward his son, grinning somewhat foolishly, when a golden ball of fur burst into the den between Dhahabu's legs and pounced on the king. "I'm goin' on a hunt, I'm goin' on a hunt!" Mohatu beamed, scrambling through his grandfather's thick mahogany mane to perch atop his head.

"Oh you are, are you?" Mfalme reached up with one paw and snagged his grandson, pulling him down against his sculpted chest and pretending to squeeze him.

A laugh came from Mahiri, who stood beside Dhahabu in the cave entrance. "Yes he is...we all are." She nodded to Busara and Makani, who were rolling around on the ground at her paws. "They're old enough to learn now."

Mfalme watched the playing cubs for a long time, then gazed down at Mohatu, wincing slightly as the cub chewed on his paw. When he looked up again there were tears in his eyes, but not ones of pain. "Dhahabu, I am so proud of you, my son. You have achieved so many dreams...and I know you will succeed at all your endeavors."

Dhahabu paced to his side and lowered his head to nuzzle his father, purring as a lump entered his throat. "Thank you, Father. And I am proud to be your son. I will strive to always make you proud."

After a long emotional gaze, Mfalme at last sighed and rose to his paws. Mohatu let go of his paw, peering up questioningly. "What's up, Grandpa?"

"Well, since you and your brothers and your mother will be going on a hunt, I thought I would patrol the borders of our lands to make sure there will be no threats to you." He smiled. "Protecting you is my job, after all."

"Oh." The cub paused, then embraced his foreleg. "Well I'll miss ya Grandpa. See ya when we all get back!" He scampered over to his brothers and pounced, bearing them to the floor with a miniature roar.

Chuckling, Mfalme turned to Malkia once more and delivered one last lick upon her muzzle. "I shall return, my love. Keep the den warm for me." He winked, then strode to Dhahabu's side. "Let's go son."

Dhahabu shook his head. "I'm sorry, Father, but I am tired out...I need sleep." He smirked at his sons. "Probably from chasing those little terrors around."

Mfalme nodded, a knowing look on his face. "All right, son...perhaps another time then."

"You can count on it." Yawning hugely, Dhahabu stretched, his forequarters lowering to the floor and his claws extending their full length, before he arose again, working his jaw. He shook out his mane, then padded out of the den. "I'll see you tonight, Father."

After he had departed, Mahiri stared after him, longing on her face, before she turned and made a soft chuff under her breath, calling her cubs. "Come on, guys. Time for you to learn to do more than butt my stomach all day."

Malkia laughed as the three cubs followed their mother out of the cave, each casting back a grin before continuing on. Mohatu's was quite roguish. "Your kingdom is before you, Mfalme...in the form of those cubs."

"I know...that's what I'm afraid of." The king's deep laugh echoed in the cave as he made his way to the entrance. "They will all become proud, strong lions one day. I can feel it. Now...to perform my duty."

The queen was still for a moment, then she eyed him worriedly. "Be careful, my love. Kuchinja and his brothers still roam the lands."

Mfalme snorted. "I can handle them..."

As the king padded out into the burning noonday sun, Malkia laid her head on her paws and watched him go. Staring at the massive body of the lion she loved so deeply, at the golden halo of coruscating light surrounding his maned head as he blocked the sun, she could only hope fervently that he was right.

* * *

By the time Kuchinja arrived at the oasis where his brothers waited for further news from Kiburi, Ukware had already given them all an earful on what he had seen and heard. Thus, when the massive gray lion stalked into the shade of the trees with Jahili draped across his back, all of the other lions were shocked.

Ushindi was the first to stalk to face Kuchinja, eyes blazing. "How dare you bring him back here, after what he did!"

Kuchinja snarled and raised a paw, striking the cream lion forcefully across the face. Ushindi fell back before his blazing eye, one paw to the growing welt. "I thought you knew better than to never question me..."

Kufa stepped forward next, voice quiet and unassuming. "He should not have been so rude, brother, but his point is valid. Why is he here, when he could be a threat to us?"

Njaa, watching the fury in Kuchinja's face, growled. "Yes...I would have thought you'd have killed him by now."

The gray lion chuckled as he strode to the edge of the waterhole and shrugged his shoulders, sending his son toppling unceremoniously to the dirt. He landed hard, limbs flopping and head just missing a sharp rock. "Believe me, I considered it, and it is certainly an option later on, when we have more...leisure time."

He turned to see Njaa staring down at Jahili, sorrow and pity on his face. "Ah yes...I should have known your soft heart would be torn by this 'tragic' turn of events." Kuchinja's voice rose and fell in scathing sarcasm.

Njaa's expression hardened further. "Dispense with the snideness, brother. This _is_ a tragedy...for him to finally find love, but have it taken beyond his reach because of our feud with Mfalme—"

"If I hear," Kuchinja interrupted, "so much as one more word about love pass from your throat, I shall personally rip it out." He smiled in grim satisfaction as all the color drained from Njaa's face and his voice fell to a whisper, then silence. "Good. Now you at last know I mean business. You are far from necessary, Njaa...I do not need five brothers to accomplish my goals."

As the golden tawny lion's face crumpled and he sat down heavily, Kuchinja turned to the others. "Jahili may have betrayed us, but he inadvertently gave me a plan with which we will be rid of Mfalme once and for all."

Tauni gasped, while Vita chuckled, low and dangerous. Kuchinja observed the skepticism in Njaa's eyes and glanced at Mwoga. "You have told me that the head of the local pack of jackals is your close friend. Was this true, or another one of the many lies you told to get in my good graces, of which you thought I was unaware?"

The hyena was flabbergasted, completely thrown as to how to respond to this. At last she stuttered, "Y-yes, he and I played together as pups."

"Good. Then I wish for us to travel to his pack. Once there, you will convince him to do a little...scavenging for us." Kuchinja smirked.

Mwoga stepped back a pace. Broken out of his trance, Njaa narrowed his eyes. "You mean...?"

The gray lion threw his head back and laughed. "Oh yes...Mfalme will have his flesh torn from his bones for what he did to our father. And we will be there to witness the reckoning...all except you."

"Me?" Njaa blinked.

"Yes...someone must remain behind with Jahili, to make sure he does not run off and warn our target before he can be slashed to shreds." Kuchinja regarded him coolly. "Since you seem to be so fond of him, you shall share his fate for a while...remaining isolated. And of course ensuring his survival, so that I can deal with him more fully later on."

Ushindi snickered at this. Njaa shot him an angry glare, but the young lion was already looking away, rising to his paws and moving to Kuchinja's side. "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

"Indeed. Let us go. This is a moment long in coming...finally, I shall behold Mfalme's body ripped asunder." Kuchinja spoke slowly, drawing his final words out. It was clear he fully savored saying them, that he received a thrill of pleasure each time he spoke of Mfalme's fate, changing the words but retaining the horrifying meaning.

Kufa licked his lips as he and his twin joined Kuchinja and Ushindi. Tauni moved to their side with slight reluctance, looking back at Njaa for reassurance. The golden tawny lion nodded, accepting his role without question. He knew he would not have wished to view such a slaughter in any case...though he desired Mfalme's punishment for what he had done, that did not make him a bloodthirsty killer like Kuchinja. And this was not the sort of death he would want for anyone.

Eagerly the two hyenas led the way, Mwoga anxious to expunge the memory of her bragging from Kuchinja's mind. Njaa watched as his brothers faded one by one into the shimmering haze of the Majonzi, until at last he remained alone with his nephew. Then he moved to Jahili's side, and lowered his head. He pushed against the lion's shoulder, bracing his paws and working his muzzle underneath the prone form until at last he managed to turn him over. Standing over him, Njaa stared down in sorrow and shook his head.

"Oh Jahili...why did you allow yourself to become so close...you made a choice that may well be fatal. And now you suffer in heart more than you ever have..." The golden tawny lion looked up again, eyes fixed on the barren wasteland that had swallowed the others. "And I cannot help you...not anymore."

Tears stood in his eyes.

"I am sorry..."

* * *

Paws striking the ground with measured tread, Mfalme traveled rapidly but without urgency along the western border of Kiburi, his heart filled with utter contentment. It was strange. He knew he should feel threatened, even worried, by Kuchinja's campaign against him and his family, and somewhere within him he was indeed deeply troubled. But right now all of that seemed distant. The only thing occupying his heart was love, and his thoughts returned only to his precious grandsons.

Chuckling to himself, he slowed to a stop at the apex of a grassy ridge thrust into the sky and paused to survey the land below him. Breathing deeply, the Lion King watched as the sunlight shone on familiar shapes. An acacia, gnarled and twisted as it stretched its branches to the sky. The river, meandering across the savanna, sparkling as if the rushing, surging water had swallowed up the previous evening's stars and displayed them in one gleaming array upon the rocks of its bed.

Loons burst from their nests, secreted in the reeds of a narrow bog, their wings silhouettes against the glowing sky. On the ground, zebra and okapi lay sprawled in sleep, only a few individuals rising to graze in the intense heat. Hills rolled beneath the brilliant dome of pastel blue. All was a panoramic vista of such loveliness and beauty it brought tears to his eyes.

All of this...this pristine land, it was his and Dhahabu's, and now his grandsons' as well. A vision passed through his mind, of the condition in which he had first seen it, following the return to Giza's pride and the death of his father Mkase. Overgrazed. Barren. Dying. So much had changed for the better since then. How dare Kuchinja return and plan to plunge the land into darkness once more.

The scowl faded as he thought of the cubs again...little Makani, so solemn. Busara, so perceptive for one so young. And Mohatu...as wild and mischievous as his father had been, and also with the same good and loving heart. He closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh scent of acacia blossoms on the wind, smiling softly. Malkia was right. They were the future, and his mind churned as he pondered what they would be like when they were grown.

He shrugged and continued on to the south. "Whatever they will be, they will make us all proud...I only hope I am still here to see it." Wincing slightly as he felt the bones in his legs creak and the tenseness in his weary muscles, Mfalme slowed his step. His paws had trodden a difficult path on the Circle...but now at last he had found peace. If the Great Kings decreed his allotted years had been achieved, he would go with pride and even a certain relief...knowing his kingdom was in capable paws, and that the Circle would remain complete.

His rest among the stars, if it came soon, would be well-deserved...

* * *

With a moan of pain, Jahili opened his eyes and squinted against the sharp light of afternoon. Blocking the sun with one paw, he slowly rolled over and sat up. To his shock he was back in the oasis within the Majonzi. He scrambled up, ignoring the weakness in his legs, and quickly assessed the situation. It did not take him long to realize he was not alone—Njaa lay beneath a nearby tree, watching him with a hurt, betrayed look. But Kuchinja and the others were nowhere in sight.

"Uncle Njaa!" The young lion staggered to his side. "What's going on? Where is my father?" A dangerous glint was in his eyes.

"He and the others have gone to deal with Mfalme, once and for all." The golden tawny lion spoke with difficulty, clearly unhappy with this turn of events.

"What?" Jahili let out a roar of outrage and clawed an innocent tree. "No! I have to stop him..."

But as he moved toward the edge of the oasis, Njaa abruptly snarled and darted out in front of him, blocking his path. Jahili stepped back, shocked as he saw Njaa's hackles rising and his fangs bared.

"I'm sorry, Jahili, but I can't let you go..." Njaa took another pace toward him.

"But..." The mahogany lion swallowed. "But I can't let him die, he's Taraji's father! And anyway no one deserves to be mauled by jackals!"

His uncle shook his head in sad resignation. "Jahili, you chose your fate. You should have known never to let yourself get close to Taraji. Now you have lost your father for good, and he may well kill you when he returns."

"Good! I'd rather die than live without her." Njaa inhaled sharply, disbelief and horror in his eyes. "It's true, uncle. She means everything to me."

"Nephew, no! Whatever you do, you must not tie your destiny to hers!" The golden tawny lion's voice was pleading, genuine fear in his gaze. "I know you feel some attachment for her, but that is not worth throwing away your life! Whether we wish it or not, the Kiburi Lands will fall, and if you are still connected to Taraji when they do—"

Jahili growled. "That is what you see this as? An 'attachment'? A simple fling? A delusion? Well you are wrong, uncle. I _love_ her, more than I've ever loved anything in my life!"

Njaa sighed and hung his head, shaking it sadly. "I know it may _feel_ like love, Jahili, but it is only your hormones! You are young, you can't possibly know what love is yet."

Jahili snorted. "And you do? I don't see lionesses at your beck and call!"

His uncle froze, eyes wide, as if he had been struck by a paw with claws unsheathed. Clearly this had stung him—but only because it was true.

As Njaa slowly sat down on his haunches, Jahili had a chance to run his mind back to a phrase his uncle had uttered which had struck him as odd. At last he caught it. "Whether _we_ wish it or not?" he repeated slowly.

"What?" The other looked up, distracted.

"You said we." Hope burned in Jahili's eyes. "You don't want Kiburi to fall either, do you? You may desire it as your birthright, but you don't want to claim it this way."

"No..." Njaa tried to deny it, but Jahili could see in his expression that he was right.

Hurriedly the young lion moved to his uncle, peering up at him anxiously. "Please, uncle. Let me go, let me prevent this injustice from happening! Two wrongs do not make a right."

Njaa wavered. "I can't...your father would kill me!"

"But could you live with yourself if you let such a cruel thing happen?" When his uncle took a step back, Jahili pressed his advantage. "Besides, I am doing this for love as well as justice. You said it's not worth throwing my life away—but it is! And it's not a useless gesture, it is part of what you do when the time comes to choose where you will stand, with right or with wrong!"

The older lion's jaw shook. "Oh nephew...why did this have to happen? It will tear our family apart!"

"Only if Kuchinja wishes it."

Njaa breathed out heavily. "Are you absolutely sure you love her? It could just be the excitement of a lioness, or the afterglow of mating—"

"I am sure." Jahili paused. "And we have not mated, not even once."

Njaa stared. "You must have an iron will for one so young."

"Believe me, it was no easy task. At least twice I was close to losing control. But I always knew it would be a mistake, that it would only ruin the relationship."

Gradually a look of respect filled Njaa's eyes. He moved closer and placed a massive paw on Jahili's shoulder. "She means that much to you..."

"Yes, uncle. She knows me, and I her. We know what it's like to be alone, to be cast aside. Everything about her fills me with joy, and she always brightens when I am near. When we're together, it's like the stars are brighter, the flowers smell richer, the water is purer, and every word is a gift from the Kings." Jahili's voice softened more the longer he spoke, becoming hushed by intense emotion. His eyes were trained on the ground at first, but when he realized how silent the world had become, he looked up to see tears in Njaa's eyes.

"I can see it...you do love her." Njaa sighed. "And a love like this should not be denied..."

Gently he wrapped his paw around Jahili's neck and pulled him close.

Crying, Jahili buried his face in Njaa's chestnut mane. "Oh thank you, uncle, thank you! You won't regret this!"

"I hope not, Jahili...I hope not." He caressed his nephew's mane, then stepped back. "Go on...you don't have much time."

The mahogany lion nuzzled him once more, knowing it could very well be the last time he saw him, and then turned toward the scorching desert of the Majonzi. He paused at the edge of the oasis and looked back. Seeing the worry and loneliness on Njaa's face, he cocked his head. "We will see each other again, I promise you that."

"I know."

"Until then...what will you say to Father?"

"That I fell asleep, and you snuck away." He shrugged. "A believable lie."

Jahili nodded. "I hope so..." Reluctantly he turned back again and then took a deep breath. He rubbed the back of his head and winced, then clamped down on his pain and instead latched onto his strength. Stepping into the sunlight, he gazed toward the east, and started off.

But as he picked up his pace, until he was running at top speed across the burning sands, he knew Njaa's lie was not the only one in question anymore. To save Mfalme, he must warn Taraji. But she would never believe her father was in danger unless he offered proof. To do that...he must reveal his identity.

And then...he could lose everything. What if Kuchinja were right? If she turned on him...

The fiery pain in the pads of his paws as he streaked eastward matched precisely the pain in his heart.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time Mwoga returned to where Kuchinja and his brothers waited impatiently. They had cut across the desert rather than through the savanna, making for a harrowing journey in the sweltering heat, but it had saved time, which was precious to them. Kuchinja had had no idea of whether he could count on the hyena, and wanted plenty of leeway to make adjustments to the plan if need be.

As Mwoga approached the hilltop, he could see from her downcast, furious expression that such a change would indeed be necessary.

"Well?" he roared. "What did your jackal friend have to say to my proposal? Surely he would not turn down a meal that would last him and his pack for several weeks and a chance to rid himself of the scourge of Mfalme!"

For answer, the hyena lifted her head. Tauni gasped and Ukware growled. Across her cheek, throat, and chest, streaks of blood gave mute testimony to the ferocious reply the jackal had given her.

"Apparently he's not my friend anymore," she snarled. "And he says he's not gonna risk losing his packmates to a menace like Mfalme, not even for you..."

"Is that so?" Kuchinja tapped a claw against the ground suggestively. "Well then perhaps he will lose his packmates to a different menace..."

* * *

The sun hung poised just above a low bluff in its descent toward the horizon when Mfalme reached the southern border of Kiburi and turned back toward the heart of his lands. His body was even more tired and sore than it had been before, if that were possible. Silently he berated himself for coming so far, but he had wanted to assure that all was well...and to prove to himself that he still had the strength.

Now, limping on his right foreleg, his mane dusty and his pawpads rubbed raw by the constant walking, he had to admit the painful truth—he did not have the strength. Or at least the stamina. Only the thought of seeing his beloved Malkia and his precious grandcubs kept him from lying down in the shade of a tree and falling into a much-needed sleep.

He gazed down at the earth as he continued on, noting how the reddening light of the sun stained it the color of blood. His fur and mane, too, were turning crimson beneath the ruddy glow from the west. He repressed a shudder at this ill omen...and at how it reminded him of the wildebeest massacre in the river.

Reluctantly his thoughts turned to Kuchinja. As he passed along the base of a rocky outcrop, the mahogany lion ran through the same worn pathways in his mind, discarding plans and considering options before coming to the same conclusion. Somehow, he and Dhahabu must track down Kuchinja, learn where he was hiding, and then with the help of the lionesses, separate the Wahamiji so that each lion could be dealt with easily. But as of yet, no scents were left behind.

On their first foray into Kiburi, the blood of the wildebeests—and of his head huntress, Mfalme thought darkly—had masked their scents, and that scent in turn had been washed away by the river when the six had crossed it farther upstream. The rhinoceros had covered their tracks at the dam, and apparently the other times they attacked, including the aborted kidnapping of Mohatu, the lions had decorated themselves with foul-smelling herbs no one could stand to track.

He growled audibly. That last attempt...it still made his blood boil. To threaten an innocent cub...thank goodness Tembo had been there. Once again he was grateful for the elephant, and knew the wisdom of his decision to train him to be Dhahabu's majordomo.

If only they could learn where the Wahamiji dwelt! It was a puzzle with no answer...no other pride would shelter them, and there were few other places close enough to Kiburi where they could survive...

Mfalme moved on as the shadows lengthened, pondering his course, the soft breeze blowing into his face...not noticing the canine silhouettes against the rock behind him...

* * *

Taraji lifted her face to the cool evening breeze and closed her eyes. The heat of the day was rapidly fading, and yet her body still burned with it. Panting, she sat on a hilltop along the western border of Kiburi and tried not to think of Jahili. But she could not avoid it. Ever since she returned she could not keep her mind away from him. His gentle eyes, his handsome face...his muscular body...

She blinked. There it was again—her thoughts shifting to desire and fervent longing. Why could she not banish these sensual fantasies? The more she loved Jahili, the faster they filled her mind. In fact she could almost swear she caught his scent at that very moment, drifting on the breeze behind her...

Suddenly the cinnamon lioness stiffened. That was no imaginary scent, it was real! Turning, she saw the young lion climbing the hill, stumbling wearily. "Jahili!"

The sound of her voice seemed to invigorate him. Putting on a burst of speed, the mahogany lion reached the crest and rushed to her side, his tongue at once caressing her cheek, her ear, her neck. A deep, thrumming purr filled his throat, echoed by her own. "Oh Taraji...I missed you so much..."

Taraji buried her muzzle in his mane. "Oh Jahili...I couldn't stand another minute without you." She breathed deeply of his wild, woody scent, and for her efforts received a noseful of sand that had been caught in the brown hair of his mane. She sneezed violently and pulled back. "You went through the desert to reach me? Why? What was so urgent?" Then she raised an eyebrow. "And why didn't you wait the five days?"

Jahili at once looked uncomfortable, but he quickly smiled disarmingly. "I just couldn't stop thinking of you...I had to see you."

The lioness gave him an odd look, but for some reason she could not focus her thoughts on his words. All she could sense was the growing heat inside her, all she noticed was the depth of love and passion in his eyes... "That's...the only reason...?" she managed to murmur.

He swallowed, looking as if he wished to say something more, but then pain appeared in his eyes and he stopped himself. "There is something I need to tell you...but it can wait. I'd much rather get closer to you." Gently he pressed against her side, rubbing his muzzle against her neck, before licking her cheek with agonizing slowness.

The heat intensified. Gasping, she suddenly realized what it was—it was her season! It had come upon her unawares...and now, eyes trained on the handsome face of the lion she loved, she could not resist its call even if she wished it. And she did not...

Jahili's eyes widened, and she could tell he could detect the change in her scent too. He licked his lips uncertainly, and then grinned. "Taraji...?"

"Hmmmmmm?" Her languorous response was low and throaty.

"With the way things are now, I don't know if we'll ever have the chance again. Do you want me to...?" He blushed and hung his head, turning away. "I know, it was a stupid question, and very insensi—"

He was cut off by Taraji, lifting his head and pressing her muzzle to his in a passionate kiss, tongue slipping across his warm fur and between his lips.

Shuddering, Jahili let his tail slide across her back and down her side to her underbelly, closing his eyes. Taraji watched him, smiling, before she kissed him again, with more fervor. At last, the two of them would never be alone, feeling apart from everyone around them, divided from each other by circumstance...they would be joined, they would be one...

Their mixing scents filled the air as the cinnamon lioness lowered her head to the mahogany lion's chest and bathed his rippling muscles with warm wetness. Jahili squeezed his eyes shut in ecstasy...

* * *

Kuchinja pressed his massive body down against the jackal who led the pack, one paw shoving his head to the ground. The jackal growled, then whined as the lion pressed harder, grinding his muzzle in the dirt. Blood trickled from the jackal's mouth, as well as from numerous wounds on his neck and sides.

"Now then," the gray lion said almost conversationally, "as I was saying...you _will_ order your pack to attack Mfalme. Isn't that right, dog?"

The jackal snarled and struggled to rise, but Kuchinja slammed his head down hard and he finally nodded weakly. "All right, Kuchinja. You win." His voice was gravelly and laced with contempt.

Kuchinja chuckled darkly. "I always win..." He looked up to the rest of the pack, under guard by his brothers after the short fight to capture the pack leader. It had been easy for Mwoga to lead them to the jackals and catch them by surprise—as it was not yet sunset most of them had been asleep. From there they had traversed the lands until they had crossed Mfalme's trail and followed the direction that held the freshest scent. Now they stood on a hill overlooking the valley where Mfalme walked lost in thought.

His last thoughts.

The lion nodded to the jackals, but they refused to move. A curt growl from him, and Kufa snapped at the pack. The other members of the Wahamiji soon joined him, snarling and swiping at the yellowish-gray beasts. The highest-ranking member after the packleader looked to the pinned jackal. For a moment he hesitated, but then Kuchinja grabbed hold of his head, jerked it up, and dug his unsheathed claws into his exposed throat. The jackal yipped, giving the order to attack.

Finally the pack of jackals, fifteen strong, turned and raced down the hill, the Wahamiji on their tails, still slashing and driving them on. Kuchinja smirked and shoved the packleader back down. "You, my friend, will stay here...as a precaution. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, now would we?"

The look of fear in the jackal's eyes made Kuchinja laugh outright. Then he returned his attention to the valley and the imminent slaughter...

* * *

It came out of nowhere. One moment Mfalme was pacing slowly across the dusty ground, the next he was startled by a sharp howl. Looking up wildly, he saw the dark shapes of grayish canines running toward him, muzzles curled back in snarls of hatred. The bloodlust in their eyes was instantly apparent.

His throat locked up, and then the lion turned and spun on his hind paws, racing along the base of the bluff.

Heart pounding in fear, the Lion King could feel the pain and weariness in his legs and paws, and he knew he could not keep up this pace. It was a cubhood nightmare come true...living on the borders of Giza's pride, he had had a deathly phobia of jackals, of the small but deadly animals trapping him, their teeth and claws slashing his flesh. Looking behind him, he stared at the jackals closing in and stumbled on, already feeling the pain, his blood burning.

Then he tripped over a rock he hadn't seen and fell, rolling in the dust. Quickly he scrambled to his paws, slicing one open on the same rock, and tried to regain the ground he had lost. But the blood made his tread uncertain and his path slippery. He tried to veer right, but the bluff turned at an angle just ahead, preventing it. And when he turned to the left, he found some of the jackals had separated from the rest, blocking his path.

Slowly he slid to a halt. In moments he was surrounded, backing toward the bluff face, trying to use it as protection. One jackal leapt in, unable to restrain himself, and instinctively Mfalme swung a massive paw, claws connecting with the animal's head and sending him crashing into the bluff behind him. But even as it fell in a bloody heap, another one rose to take its place.

Mfalme looked up at the darkening sky, unable to believe this was the way the Kings willed him to leave this earth. As the jackals licked their lips in anticipation, he closed his eyes...

* * *

Closing his eyes, Jahili inhaled Taraji's scent, a shiver running through his body. When he had come upon Taraji, he had known he had to tell her the truth, but looking at her face, he did not have the courage to break her heart like that. And though it was selfish, he wanted to share himself with her at least once before she turned on him, for that was what he feared she would do.

And the love in her eyes made it easy to rationalize not warning her yet of Mfalme. There was plenty of time...he had taken a shortcut to reach here. Mfalme was strong and would not succumb easily. And the distance to where he was, assuming Kuchinja had been able to ambush him, was not likely to be great.

Then all thought vanished as he was overwhelmed by the power of Taraji's scent. This was a moment he had dreamed of for so long, had ached to experience. He was almost giddy with excitement, at last it would come to pass! Lovingly he caressed her cheek with his tongue and kissed her yet again, his tail lashing in slow beats, the tuft slipping across the cinnamon lioness's inner thighs. Jahili slid along her side, tickling her muzzle with his tail, and at last arrived at her hind end.

Taraji looked back over her shoulder, a sly, inviting look on her face. His purr deepened, and he raised an eyebrow. Then Jahili stepped close and placed his large forepaws on her shoulders, pressing close as he took hold of her scruff in the strong grip of his teeth...

* * *

The sharp teeth of the jackal gripped Mfalme's shoulder, tearing deeply into his flesh. Roaring in pain, the king shook from side to side, trying to throw the animal off of his back where it clung tenaciously. Another jackal was gnawing on his hind legs, while a third leaped in at his chest. The lion bashed its head to the ground with one paw, crushing its skull. Then he swung back into the outcrop, breaking the spine of the jackal on his back. As it limply fell away, Mfalme shuddered, feeling the blood well up in the wounds on his neck and shoulder.

Before he could even catch his breath, the rest of the jackals rushed him at once, swarming over his massive body. Claws scratched and slashed, teeth ripped and tore. One jackal managed to hang along his ribs and lunge at his underbelly, its jaws flashing and mauling. Mfalme wept, struggling, his muscles heaving as he fought their weight, but the ferocity of the jackals was overwhelming. He staggered across the ground, twisting, a jackal dangling from his head, claws raking across his eyes.

Feverishly he wondered why this was happening...jackals never attacked something alive, they preferred carrion! Something must be driving them somehow...

He screamed as the jackal on his side chewed into his belly, penetrating to his innards. Snarling, he heaved, trying once again to throw the jackals off. One was dislodged from his back, falling to the ground. Instantly his head darted down, tearing out the jackal's throat. Pain flared anew as the cruel wound in his belly was ripped further open. Mfalme roared again, digging his claws into the soil...

* * *

Claws plunged into the soil, Jahili dug deep furrows as his passion increased. Everything was as he'd envisioned it to be, and more. A tingling warmth spread through him, echoing the love in his heart. His tail lashed faster as he thrust against Taraji, and he could feel her arch her back beneath him. Moaning in longing, the mahogany lion reveled in the waves of pleasure coursing through him, his purr rumbling in his throat. The lioness turned her head, arching her neck back to pass her tongue across his cheek. In gratitude he licked her neck vigorously, strengthening the bond between them as his movements became more emphatic. Trembling, Taraji's hips quivered.

At last, Jahili pressed his underbelly against her back and bore her downwards...

* * *

Borne downwards by the weight of the jackals, Mfalme felt himself weakening. His muscles protested, tense and stiff from the long journey of the day. And every minute that passed he felt his age more acutely. Two more jackals lay dead around him, but now he could barely manage to close his jaws over the throats of the ones remaining. Lacerations covered his body; the thick blood welling up from one eye blinded him; the tendons in his hind legs had been severed. Gasping and moaning, he at last fell to his knees, his weakened foreleg giving way.

As he crashed to the ground and the jackals swarmed over him, Mfalme thought desperately of his beloved Malkia and how much he loved her. Then he was lost from view...

* * *

The savanna echoed simultaneously with two shattering roars—one of triumph and pride, the other of agony and despair.

A new life had been created...and another was slowly draining away into the earth...

The Circle of Life had turned once more.

* * *

After watching the melee of blood, fur, and meat with a macabre enjoyment, Kuchinja at last roared. As one the jackals froze in place in mortal terror, presenting a morbid tableau...gobbets of flesh dangling from mouths, bloodied muzzles and paws, intestines strewn on the ground—even an eye caught in one jackal's teeth.

"That's enough of that...you've received enough food to last you for a while, and I want there to be some of him left for the vultures to pick clean." The gray lion smirked, then lifted his paw from the packleader's back and stepped away.

The jackal staggered to his paws and shot him a venomous glare. Then he looked down into the valley. "You heard him...let's get out of here." He glanced back at Kuchinja. "I don't want to stay in his filthy company any longer than he wants to stay in mine."

Reluctantly the jackals dispersed, sneering at the other members of the Wahamiji who stood watch—Tauni looking violently ill, but the rest with bestial gazes of satisfaction and tongues licking lips in utter pleasure. The packleader gave one last look to Kuchinja. "I will never forget this."

"Nor will I..." The ominous tone in the lion's voice silenced whatever else the jackal would have said. Instead he turned and descended the hill, joining his packmates with a howl. In moments they were passing into the night, the last vestiges of the sunlight fading from their hides as the sun sank from view.

Kuchinja watched his brothers approaching for a moment, then looked beyond them to the brooding hulk of Mfalme sprawled on the ensanguined earth in the shadow of the bluff. Lifting one massive paw, he placed it against the dried blood of Giza in his chest fur.

"At last, Father...you are avenged..."

* * *

Beneath the bone-white orb of the moon, Mahiri lifted her head from the still steaming carcass of a springbok and let the blood drip from her muzzle as she stared out across the rolling hills washed with the silvery light of evening. Beside her Mohatu, Busara, and Makani gorged themselves on a young adolescent springbok they had brought down together, tearing and chewing the meat with great gusto. She smiled slightly at them in approval, but worry still creased her brow.

The hunt had lasted all afternoon. At first they had found no prey at all, then it had only been prey far too large for a solitary lioness, let alone three cubs. Finally, as the sun was setting, Mahiri had spotted a herd of springbok grazing in a bend in the river, and with relief she had led the cubs into a small half-circle, as the lionesses did when they hunted. The lioness had easily brought down a young mother, allowing her to quickly focus on her sons and guide them with sharp commands.

At first the three had trouble, because Mohatu wanted all the glory and tried to bring the animal down all by himself, while Makani had been too afraid to attack. But it was Busara, without any urging from her, who had brought them in line, physically pulling Mohatu back by his tail while whispering words of encouragement to Makani. At last he had coached them to come at the prey from both sides, avoiding the kicking hind legs. With surprising ease, the three had leaped onto the springbok's sides and back, biting as deeply as their cub teeth would allow. Mohatu had succeeded in slashing the springbok's throat, and it had collapsed, allowing them to watch it bleed to death.

But now, looking out at the deserted savanna, Mahiri's heart was laden with a gnawing doubt and a profound fear. Mfalme should have returned by now, he was only patrolling the borders, it would not take all day to do something so simple. True, he could have taken a different route home...but since he was patrolling to protect them, she had been sure he would check in with her first...

At that moment Mohatu head-butted her foreleg. "Hey Mom!" His words were muffled and indistinct, since his mouth was full.

"Swallow your food, Mo," she muttered absently.

His throat worked, and then he spoke again. "That was great, Mom! I never tasted anything so good in my whole life!"

In spite of her discomfort Mahiri could not help but laugh. "And you've tasted so many things already?"

The golden tawny cub scowled. "Hey, you're messin' up my fun!"

The lioness chuckled and then lowered her head to nuzzle him. "Oh, my brave and fierce Mohatu, what would I ever do without you?"

Mohatu giggled. But then, as she looked up to stare once more out at the darkened plains, he cocked his head. "What's the matter, Mom?"

Mahiri sighed. "I'm just wondering where your grandfather is. He should have come back by now."

"Aw, he's just out there guardin' the borders, chasin' out hyenas, poundin' that Kuchinja flat!" Overwhelmed with excitement, Mohatu leaped and pranced and slashed at the air with his claws, presumably to demonstrate Mfalme's exploits.

The cream lioness flicked an ear. "I hope so..."

Mahiri's fears had not subsided by the time their meal was finished. And so she made a quick decision. Calling her cubs to her, she praised all of them for their skill, but especially Busara for his understanding of cooperation. Then, head held high, the lioness turned and headed back toward the dens. She would leave the cubs with Malkia and find Dhahabu...so they could search for his father...

* * *

Dhahabu glanced sidelong at Mahiri as the two mates paced rapidly across the Kiburi Lands, his jaw clenched to prevent it from trembling. The lioness returned a gaze equally frightened. They had been traveling all night, seeking out the gallant Lion King, but it was as if the soil had swallowed him up. All that remained to mark his passing was the faint traces of his tracks and scent, stretching endlessly southward. The lion shuddered.

The farther they traveled and the more time passed, the more his heart pounded. Eyes wide, he scanned the horizon futilely for any sign. In the back of his mind the insidious thought lurked, that something had happened to him, that Kuchinja had struck again. But he could not accept that. No, it was likely Mfalme had simply traveled too far, grown tired on the journey back, and had lain down to rest and recuperate until morning. Yet still the fear lingered...

Silently Dhahabu cursed himself for not going with his father on the patrol. If only he had not been so tired! If only he had decided to spend more time with the king. If only, if only... He shook his head. He could not second-guess himself, especially when he still did not possess all the facts. The search must reach its conclusion before any damage could be assessed, and if they were lucky all his distress would be for naught.

On the journey went, and still with no further sign of Mfalme. Dhahabu roared periodically, and Mahiri as well, but the only answer was the whine of the wind through the rocks and the barking calls of a few stray zebra. The lions were now approaching the roughest country of the Kiburi Lands, an area of rifts, canyons, and towering bluffs and pinnacles spreading into the mountains to the east. Beyond the misty, snow-capped peak of Kilimanjaro, a thin crescent of light flashed and shone as the sun began to rise.

Wearily Dhahabu scanned the land once more. And then, as they passed near the largest of the granite outcrops, his gaze picked out a humped silhouette in the rock's shadow...a massive shape with a thick brown mane blowing in the breeze, two reddish stripes clearly visible in the dawn light.

The golden lion's muscles locked. Behind him he heard Mahiri gasp. Desperately his mind sought another interpretation of the scene...his father was sleeping, that was all. But then, as his eyes shifted across the Lion King's fallen body, and the light grew stronger, horrifying details became clear. Flies, swarming around Mfalme. The hunched forms of vultures. And the ground all around him...stained by a dark, spreading patch of reddish-brown.

"No...no..."

Breathing shallowly, Dhahabu at last managed to stumble forward. But the closer he became, the more his heart twisted inside him. Quickly he snarled, and the vultures scattered...but what was then revealed was worse than he had imagined. He could hear his mate retching behind him, but he could not tear his eyes away. For a few moments it was as if he were someone else, with no emotional attachment to Mfalme, so stunned was he.

The whites of his gray eyes shone in the light as Dhahabu took it all in...his father's sides, chest, and shoulders, a mass of shredded flesh. His gentle, loving face marred by deep scratches and a torn flap of skin. One eye was missing, a gaping hole. And his underbelly...the lion was lying face down, but from what Dhahabu could see, the noble king had been eviscerated. One bloody paw was bent underneath him, pressed to his flesh as if in his last moments Mfalme had tried to force his innards back inside.

Finally, all the shock and horror retreated enough to let the full image blast through his mind...all narrowed to a single point of focus, the expression of pain on Mfalme's face and the streaks of tears in his bloody fur.

Dhahabu howled—a single, guttural cry of despair, loss, and grief that clawed its way from his throat like a furious serval. With one last stagger the lion fell to the ground before his father and roared in pain, the tears running down his cheeks. It was Sulubu, all over again, only worse...for then he had had his father to comfort him, to remain behind. But who was left now to offer solace? Taraji, once more on one of her foolish hunts...? Mahiri, who didn't even know Mfalme well...? Malkia...?

The sobs came harder. His mother, already suffering so much...how could he break her heart with this news? He had never thought this would happen. Someday, long distant, Mfalme would join the Kings, but not now...not like this...

Shaking and twitching, Dhahabu buried his face in his paws.

Then, as he lay collapsed on the blasted waste, he felt a soft, shaky touch on his mane by a leonine paw. Sure it was Mahiri, he slowly lifted his head—and stared.

Quivering in pain, Mfalme's paw rested on his head...and his single eye was trained on him, glazed over but clearly aware!

"S-son..." The king's voice was a dry whisper.

At once Dhahabu twisted to stare vacantly at Mahiri, whose eyes were red and bleary. "He—he's alive! Run, Mahiri! Get the healer, as quickly as you can! And the rest of the pride as well!"

The lioness stood stock still for a moment, then turned and sped away to the north at a dead run, muscles surging.

As Dhahabu looked back to his father, Mfalme was coughing up blood, his body spasming. He crawled forward, the tears flowing anew, and cradled his father's head in his paws. Brushing back his mane, he kissed the dying lion's face. "Oh Father...please hold on..."

"Son...I am...sorry..." Mfalme struggled to speak, a strange high whine coming from his chest. "I cannot...go on. The healer...is no...cheetah, she will not...get here...in time..."

Though his own fears knew this to be true, Dhahabu would not let himself acknowledge it. "No! Father, you lasted this long, you can continue to—"

"No..." The king shook his head a fraction of an inch. "That was only...until I...passed out...and could not...hold back the...vultures. And because...I am holding my own...life...in my...paws." He winced, making his point as his paw pushed his bowels back into place. "I held...on...because I...I knew...you would come."

"Of course I would!" Dhahabu caressed his face. "You know that, I love you!"

Mfalme managed a small smile. "Yes...and now...you are the...king, my son..."

The golden lion's jaw shook, and he fell back. "No...no, you must live! I-I'm not ready!"

Somehow finding a well of strength, Mfalme's free paw clutched Dhahabu's shoulder in a crushing grip. "But you must be! I am finished...Aiheu has called me home..."

Dhahabu's eyes flashed with anger. "Why? Why now? And why like this?" His voice broke. "I need you, Dad, I need you..."

The fallen king moved his paw to Dhahabu's cheek. "Aiheu's ways are mysterious...I cannot...question this. But you...you don't need me, son...I have already given you...all you need to know...all I know...to give..."

Dhahabu nuzzled him. "But I can't let you go! I love you!"

"And I love you..." Mfalme managed a weak purr. "Yet you must, son...you must let me go..."

"But a healer could still save you!"

"Only a mandrill healer could do that, if it is possible...at all." The king let his head fall back. "And though you do not...know this, there was an offer by...the nearest clan...to give us a shaman. But I...declined. We were at peace...I did not think it necessary." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Apparently I made...a mistake. Rectify it."

"What?" Dhahabu was stunned. His father was dying and he was talking about foolish baboons? Was he delirious?

"You are the Lion King, Dhahabu...you must rule...wisely. You must undo...what I have done. Save our lands. Bring a shaman...fight Kuchinja, do not...let him destroy...what Aiheu has given us..." Mfalme's breath hissed. "Promise me..."

"But I—"

"Promise me!" His paw gripped tighter, and his voice lashed out.

"All right. I promise..." Dhahabu felt the grip slacken, and he quickly moved to take the limp paw in his own.

"Dhahabu..." The king's voice was a whisper once more.

"Yes, Father?" The prince could barely speak, choked up by his sorrow.

"What I told you...you must believe. I am proud of you...you will be the king I have always...envisioned you...to be. Do not fail me, my son." His eye began to cloud further.

"I won't, I swear it!" Dhahabu's voice was firm with conviction. "I swear by Aiheu, by the Kings, by your blood, I will be what you wish me to be!"

"Then, my son...there is one last thing...I require of you."

"Anything!"

"Son...oh son...I cannot see you anymore, my vision has failed...I cannot see my own throat..." Mfalme's voice shook.

Suddenly wary, Dhahabu hastened to allay his fears. He caressed his father's forehead, brushing the pads of his paw across the once-beautiful mane. "Oh Father, I am still here, can't you tell? I touch your mane..."

"I feel it..." Mfalme's voice seemed to gain strength from these words, and Dhahabu felt a strange sense of power and peace in his heart, as if something of great import had just been bequeathed to him, had passed through his soul.

"But I cannot...do it myself," Mfalme continued. "You must...do it."

"What must I do?"

Slowly the king shifted his head and revealed his throat, which had somehow escaped major injury. "Kill me."

"What?" Dhahabu felt as if he'd been rammed by an elephant tusk. "But I—"

"Please...I am dying. A slow death...my life bleeds into the earth...from whence...it came." The mahogany lion shuddered. "I care not...to suffer more."

Dhahabu could not believe his ears...and yet he knew, in his heart, that it was true. He could not deny it. But the anguish... "Is there no other way...?" he asked desperately.

"I am...sorry. Please..." Mfalme swallowed. "End it quickly..."

The sun was now fully over the bluff and shone with a preternatural brilliance on the sorrowful scene. The extent of Mfalme's injuries was made all the more clear in the unforgiving light...yet a nimbus surrounded his maned head. As Dhahabu drank in every detail, he felt a growing sense of purpose. It must be done. To allow his father to die so painfully...it was not the will of the Kings, nor could it be his will. He would do anything to save his father—barring that, he must spare him any more agony.

Mfalme cried out, his eye squeezed shut as he writhed on the ground...Dhahabu almost turned away as he saw the blood come gushing from his underbelly. But he could not.

"Oh Father..." He waited until the spasm had passed, then lowered his head once more and nuzzled him. Softly, he felt Mfalme's gentle tongue caress his cheek...a flash of his day of birth, of the same gesture from his father...his unconditional love even then. He would hold him in his heart forever...

"Son...my son, the Lion King..." Mfalme smiled.

Slowly, Dhahabu pulled back and stared dully down at his upturned paw. Then, as his eyes refocused on the face of his father beyond it, his claws gradually extended...each as deadly as the thorns that now pierced his heart...

* * *

Taraji purred softly in her sleep as she cuddled against Jahili's side. The young lion could not take his eyes off her, in the dawn light she looked even more beautiful than he remembered. They had shared their love all night, and yet he still was not satisfied, his love burned ever stronger. Gently he licked her cheek and smiled when she responded by nuzzling his chest.

His breath was slow and shallow as Jahili finally lifted his head to gaze out at the grayish landscape. Color flared in the east, shooting across the land and sky in narrow fingers that sent bands of light into the world. The lion's chest rose and fell strongly as he beheld the display in amazement, feeling as though all of life had blessed his time with Taraji. He regarded her again with a tightness in his throat...she was everything he had ever wanted, he didn't know what he'd done to deserve her, especially after his life thus far...but nevertheless he was grateful.

Idly he flicked his tail tuft across her back and haunches, smirking as she rolled in her sleep, groaning quietly as the cinnamon lioness writhed in slow motion, shoulders digging into the soft soil. He leaned close and purred into her neck, once again inhaling her sweet scent. Then he pulled back and spent several long minutes in rapt contemplation...watching her breathe, watching her eyelids twitch, watching her mouth curl into a small smile.

He loved everything about her...every expression, every murmur, every inch of her. For this moment, Taraji was his world, and he longed to make every day like the previous night...fondly recalling her dreams of the future, he brushed away his nervousness and hoped only to give her what she wished. A wry smile crossed his lips. If he had not done so already, he would give her cubs...give grandcubs to Mfalme...

Mfalme!

Suddenly all thoughts of the future were swept away, and rather than love his heart pounded with fear and horror. How could he have let her scent overwhelm him like that, with Mfalme's life on the line? Once had been enough...but they had continued all night! Now it was most likely too late! Tears came to his eyes as he realized his own greed and pleasure may have cost his love her father's life. He did not deserve this happiness. Not anymore. He could not live with himself if what he surmised was true...

Yet he could do nothing but dig his claws into the ground and whip his head in one direction, then another. What could be done? How could he find out what had happened? What were his choices?

Slowly calming his breathing, he tried to control his careening thoughts. The only way to know was to learn whether Kuchinja had been successful, and to prevent his next scheme, whatever it took. But to do that...he must go through with his original plan...Taraji would never believe he bore a legitimate warning concerning her father and brother unless she knew the truth. And he could never aid her if his conscience was not clear.

He had to tell her.

Jahili reached out a trembling paw toward Taraji's side. His pads were only an inch away when his muscles locked. Weeping openly, he stared down at her, so serene and unconcerned...how could he destroy her world, and his? Why could they not remain in their perfect world forever? Why did the Kings curse him with this unattainable love?

At this thought his heart nearly stopped, and he clenched his jaw. No! It was not a curse...no matter what would happen, whether Mfalme lived or not, whether Taraji would hate him or not, he must never regret their love. It was the only thing that had made his life livable. And even if he lost it now, the very fact that this amazing lioness had deigned to give it in the first place would be enough to sustain him...he hoped. But even if it were not enough...he could not hesitate. Justice outweighed his own happiness.

He had no choice...

* * *

Two paws extended in the same moment of time...both to deliver the pain of death, one to a suffering body, the other to an unsuspecting heart.

Eyes squeezed shut as hot, stinging tears flowed down his cheeks, Dhahabu positioned his paw above Mfalme's throat and let it hang in place, claws jutting from their sheaths. Then, as he lifted it higher, he whispered brokenly, "Father...forgive me for what I am about to do..."

United in sorrow and despair, Jahili lowered his paw to Taraji's muscled shoulder and gently shook her, to awaken her—not just from slumber, but to the truth. As her eyes slowly blinked open and she smiled up at him, he too whispered. "Taraji...forgive me for what I am about to say..."

* * *

(A/N: Lots of tragic and dramatic ironies in this chapter, as well as more parallels to the movie of course—though note I was of course more open in showing Mfalme's demise than Disney could ever have allowed themselves to be with Mufasa. You should be able to guess that Jahili's revelation to Taraji will also go much worse (and more realistically) than how Kiara reacted to learning about Kovu. But there may just be some light and hope, if certain members of the Wahamiji act on morality rather than loyalty to Kuchinja... R/R!)


	9. Chapter 9: Choices

**Chapter 9: Choices**

Jahili's final words stuck in his throat, he could not force his tongue to move, it was like a cracked stone lying in a vast salt flat. But somehow he managed to utter the fateful words that would determine his future course.

"Taraji...I am Kuchinja's son."

For a moment Taraji thought she hadn't heard him right. She almost laughed and congratulated him on his joke. But then, as she gazed into his eyes, she saw the mournfulness...the pain...the truth, rising before her eyes like the golden orb of the sun, its light framing Jahili's head. Slowly her heart began to harden. She did not want to accept it, but she had to...

There was no way for Jahili to know her thoughts...her pain as she realized she had trusted and aided the enemy. He shook, however, when he saw the fires of anger in her eyes. Then suddenly her forepaw lifted, striking out with shocking speed. Jahili flinched and tried to duck, but he was too slow, and Taraji's claws swiped across his exposed cheek. Crying out in shock as much as in pain, the young lion lifted his head to gaze into her blue eyes—which were now as hard and cold as chips of ice. When she spoke her words were hissed. "How could you?"

"But I...let me explain—"

She cut him off with a snarl. "There is nothing to explain, Jahili, I understand it all quite clearly, and for the first time!" There was despair now in her gaze as well. "You used me! You used me as if I were no different than a haunch of wildebeest!"

"No!" His heart beat wildly in fear. "No, it wasn't like that!"

"Oh really?" Sarcasm dripped from her words. "Well then tell me how it was. Go on, this I have to hear!"

Jahili shuddered at the anger in her and tried to speak, his tongue stumbling repeatedly as blood from his cheek trickled into his mouth. "You s-see, when I first m-met you, Taraji, I didn't know you...I didn't know you were from Kiburi. You helped me and—"

She snorted. "And now I wish I hadn't!"

His jaw shook, in fact all his legs trembled, but he managed to continue. "And then when I found out who you were, I knew you could help me with my father, but I thought..."

"You thought what?" Taraji snapped. "That I could be your spring of knowledge? You'd get close to me, worm your way into my heart, and learn everything you could about Kiburi?"

"No! You've got it all wrong! I wanted to help my father, but in a way that would help you, too!"

She stared at him incredulously. "Now you're not making _any_ sense!"

Jahili sighed. "I know now that would never have worked, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I never wanted you hurt, I thought if I learned just a few things, my father would love me and be proud of me, but that I could make sure never to tell him anything that would threaten Kiburi..." His voice trailed off—it sounded ridiculous, even to him.

Taraji blinked, then laughed derisively. "Well, you did a pretty poor job of that! You expect me to believe such a preposterous story? No one would do such an incredibly stupid thing."

He growled softly, his claws digging into the dirt. "Maybe to you it's stupid, but not to me! It hurt me to lie to you, but I had no choice...you never would have cared about me if you'd known who I was."

"You're absolutely right about that!" The cinnamon lioness's eyes were full of fierce tears. "But that's what you wanted, wasn't it? To get me to open up so I'd reveal everything! I can't believe I trusted you...the son of that monster Kuchinja!"

Jahili slammed a paw against the ground. "But I'm not like him! I can't help where I was born, or to whom! Everything I told you was true, I had a horrible cubhood—"

"How am I supposed to believe anything you told me?" Taraji bit off the words. "And to think I loved you...when you feel nothing for me..."

He gasped. "How can you think such a thing? Love can't be faked! I love you, Taraji!"

"Don't you mean your hind end does?"

Jahili felt a growing coldness inside him, an emptiness...he could see her, pulling away from him. Her face was the same, but her eyes were devoid of emotion. He felt like screaming to the skies, but he knew that would do no good. "This has to be your anger talking...because the Taraji I know would never say such things."

Taraji's tone was bitter. "Well maybe we were both fooled by our own hearts."

"No, I couldn't be wrong about this! I love you."

"Stop saying that."

"I can't, it's true! I love you!"

"Well I don't love you!"

Jahili took a faltering step back as Taraji turned away, setting her face toward the rising sun. "You can't mean that."

The lioness was silent.

Eyes closed to block out her stiff form, the lion whispered. "Please..."

"Don't beg, that's beneath both of us. Get out of my sight." Her words were no longer angry, merely tired.

"But...what about Mfalme?"

Taraji spat on the ground at his paws. "It's too late for him, I'm sure—no thanks to you! When I feel I can face my brother after my betrayal, I'll go there alone."

For an interminable moment Jahili watched her, naked longing in his eyes. But he knew now there was no chance for them...his happiness had indeed been short-lived...and there was no reason left for him to strive for it.

Tears running down his cheeks, the mahogany lion turned and loped away...slowly at first, then faster. He headed for the northwest...toward the gorge.

Behind him Taraji kept her head bowed, eyes closed and chest heaving. When at last the sound of his passage through the grass had faded, the lioness allowed herself to collapse, face buried in her paws, and cry.

* * *

Sooner than he had hoped, the dark blur of the gorge appeared in Jahili's sight, a shadowy cleft in the barren earth, darkened still although the sun had cleared the mountains, for the angle of the light prevented it from illuminating the broken walls and rugged floor. His muscles, not yet recovered from his journey across the desert, protested, but he pressed onward, every part of him—body, mind, soul, and heart—crying out in agony. He had been wrong. Kuchinja had been right! She had rejected him...rejected their love.

As he approached the rim of the gorge, he sobbed aloud. He should have known better than to think she would accept him...he should have known his life was never meant to be fulfilled. He'd lost his father for nothing...and now he was truly alone...he had no reason to go on living...

The wind rose as he approached the drop-off, blowing back his sweat-soaked mane. Finally he could see down into the depths...the jagged rocks, the broken ledges, the distant bottom. That was where he belonged. In the darkness. In the emptiness. Among the shattered stones.

Kuchinja and Taraji had both crushed his heart, there was nothing in him...and yet, as he beheld the gorge, a part of him locked his muscles in place. No matter what she had done, he still loved Taraji! In spite of her cruel words, he could not turn away...her words of love still burned even though she had just denied them...

"What am I to do?" Jahili whispered. "My love can now never be completed...I hurt Taraji, Dhahabu, his cubs, and probably Mfalme too. I have no reason to stay, yet my heart will not let go..."

Finally his frustration became too much and he threw his head back and roared, a quivering sound that echoed in the gorge, shaking loose stray rocks. Then Jahili fell to his knees and buried his face in his paws...

The lion was still crouched down, his pads stained with tears and blood from his wounds, when he felt a hesitant little tap on his foreleg, one with barely enough strength to knock down an anthill. Lifting his head with extreme reluctance, Jahili was startled to see a meerkat, body erect, tail stiff, and eyes alert, its tiny paw resting on his mahogany fur. "What's the matter dere, big fella?"

Jahili sat up. Where had he come from so suddenly? He swept his eyes across the eastern horizon until at last he spotted a collection of mounds rising out of the savanna, marking the location of a meerkat colony. Turning back to the meerkat, he met his gaze, sighed, and then looked away. "Believe me, you wouldn't want to know."

"Sure I would! If I didn't wanna know, I wouldn't have asked ya." The meerkat hopped up on his paw and peered up into his blue eyes. "I ain't afraid of lions, King Mfalme knows how valuable I am! I help pick da ticks off 'im. An' besides, I listen ta all da lions' problems an' help 'em out."

For a moment Jahili was tempted to laugh at the ludicrous thought of this meerkat counseling the great Mfalme, let alone himself, but the serious look in the little creature's eyes stopped him. When he spoke again his voice was dull and listless. "And how could you help me?"

The meerkat chuckled. "Ya never know till ya try it. An' ya gotta tell me somethin' before I can help."

Jahili couldn't fault this logic. Besides, what did he have to lose? One more person hating him wouldn't change anything. Slowly he exhaled, sat down on his haunches, and looked down at his attentive audience. "You'll hate me..."

The meerkat snorted derisively. "Let me be da judge of dat! Cheko ain't never wrong."

Smirking in spite of himself, the young lion shrugged and began to speak...

By the time he had finished telling his story, the soft light of midmorning warmed the land, and the meerkat Cheko was shaking his head sadly. "Ooh boy, ya got a big problem dere."

Jahili let his breath out loudly. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Well, how about dat ya ain't bein' true ta your heart?" Cheko crossed his arms across his small chest.

"What do you mean?" the lion demanded. "I love Taraji more than anything! That's my problem, I can't let her go!"

"No, dat's not your problem." When Jahili looked confused, the meerkat leaped down off his paw and stood directly beneath his face, regarding him fixedly. "Let me explain. All dis time, have your principles changed one little bit?"

Jahili considered. "I don't know...I thought they had. I mean, I mated with—"

Cheko waved that aside. "Dat was your bod talkin', not your mind."

The young lion blushed. "All right...then no. I still think what my father is doing is wrong."

"Well ya see, dere's what ya should be concerned about. Ya have your priorities mixed up." The meerkat placed his tiny paws on his hips.

Despair filled Jahili's eyes. "But there's nothing I can do! Especially without Taraji..."

Cheko let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, Jahili, dat's not you! Dat's your father talkin'. Your problem is dat you're still lettin' Kuchinja run your life, even though ya can't see it. Ya tried to do things his way, but he wanted more from ya than ya were willin' ta give, and now ya know ya can't help him. So let it rest."

"But Taraji—"

"Forget Taraji for a moment, will ya?" The meerkat stepped close and poked Jahili in the chest, right where his heart was. "My friend, she doesn't matter right now. What matters is dis: do ya want your father ta win?"

"No!" His answer was vehement.

"Well den get off your haunches and go out and stop 'im! Don't throw away your life when ya can still do some good. If Taraji doesn't love ya anymore, at least you'll still be doin' what feels right in your heart. And if she does, dis'll give ya the chance ta prove ta her ya aren't like your father." Cheko nodded firmly.

Jahili's eyes widened as this simple truth blasted through his self-pity. The meerkat was right! It didn't matter what Taraji thought, he still had no choice but to prevent his father from succeeding...

But then as he looked out across the dry earth and brittle grass that lined the edge of the gorge, his face fell. "Yeah, but I don't even know how to do that. I don't know if Mfalme is dead, I don't know where my father and uncles are, I don't even know whether Dhahabu knows yet. How am I going to..." He paused and stared down at Cheko. "You!"

"Me?" The meerkat stepped back a pace, looking confused and flustered. "What about me?"

"You're a meerkat!"

Cheko looked down at himself, then peered over his shoulder at his stripes. "Ya know, I think you're right."

In spite of himself, Jahili laughed. The sound was warm and full, and made him feel alive again. "No, I mean—you're fast, right?"

"Sure I am!" The meerkat puffed out his chest proudly.

The young lion leaned down so that his muzzle was near the meerkat's face and whispered conspiratorially. "Well then here's what you'll do...if you really want to help me, run as fast as you can into Kiburi. Find out what's happened to Mfalme, and where and when any confrontation will happen between Dhahabu and my father. Then come back here, so I can decide what to do to stop any more bloodshed."

The meerkat rose to his full diminutive height. "Ya can count on me, Jahili! If it'll save Kiburi, I'll do it!"

Jahili watched as Cheko turned and scampered away, streaking across the barren ground until he disappeared into the grass. When the meerkat had vanished, he looked back into the gorge. But this time he did so with a look of defiance. "No," he said under his breath. "You won't claim me, not now. Not when I can still do something right." The young lion's expression turned distant and desperate. "Oh please, Taraji...believe me when I tell you I want to help your brother. Let me help you. Let me love you again."

And then his eyes blazed, and he clenched one paw tightly. "Father...this ends now, this day. I will let this continue no more. Your vengeance will never be complete."

But as Jahili said this, his voice trembled. He hoped more than anything that he would have the courage to make those words become truth.

* * *

Njaa lay with his head resting on his massive paws, watching the edge of the oasis through slitted eyes as he waited for the return of his brothers, or Jahili. As his gaze tracked across the burning sands, cracked earth, and rippling haze of the Majonzi, his own heart seemed to match what he saw. Torn between his brothers and his nephew, uncertain of the future, worried for what might be occurring miles away, his emotions burned in him like the sands, shifted like the haze, and broke his will.

Groaning, he buried his face in his paws and tried to calm himself, but he could not. All his mind could comprehend was that his family was falling apart—on the one side, his brothers, set on destroying Mfalme and taking over Kiburi, on the other side his nephew determined to stop them. Only ill could come of this...

Some inner sense made him look up in time to see dark shapes appear in the haze—five muscular forms. Hurriedly he returned his head to his paws, closed his eyes, and feigned sleep, hoping his heart hammering in his chest would not give him away.

The Wahamiji stepped into the shade of the oasis. Njaa could hear their breathing, their paws passing through fallen leaves, a soft growl from Kuchinja. And then the powerful lion roared in anger. Flinching, Njaa let his eyes pop open and scrambled about in the dirt before managing to sit up. He stared in fear at the gray lion. "What? Brother, what is it?"

"You idiot!" Kuchinja stalked to his side and slammed a paw into his head, rocking Njaa back. "You fell asleep, and now my worthless son has escaped!"

The golden-tawny lion feigned shock and remorse as he regarded the spot where Jahili had lain. "I...I am sorry, brother, I was tired, and the heat of the day, it was too much—"

"Don't give me excuses," Kuchinja snarled. "You have failed me, and nothing can alter that fact."

Njaa shook before his brother as his burning eye trained on him. Only the knowledge that revealing the truth would incense Kuchinja further kept him from doing so out of self-preservation. "But...why does that matter? You succeeded in killing Mfalme, didn't you?" Suddenly his fear heightened. Jahili had headed off to stop Kuchinja. The fact that he had not returned, but Kuchinja had, did not bode well. Yet the gray lion was genuinely angry at Jahili's disappearance, so he had not met him in Kiburi. What had happened?

"We did indeed." The anger in Kuchinja's voice was momentarily replaced by a gloating satisfaction. "The murderer is dead, our father's spirit can at last rest." Then his tone hardened again. "But I did not plan on our deed to be discovered until our scents had had time to fade."

Njaa froze. He looked to his brothers—Tauni, an ill look still on his face; Kufa and Vita, eyes dark and cruel; and Ushindi, nostrils flared in fury. "You mean...?"

"Yes!" Ushindi snapped. "We didn't cover our trail this time—Dhahabu and the others can follow our scents right to us!" The cream lion clenched his jaw. "How could you be so witless as to let this happen, Njaa?"

The older lion had nothing he could say to defend himself. "I...I don't know. I'm sorry..." He stared at one set of unforgiving eyes after another. Only Tauni looked sympathetic, but he could not meet Njaa's gaze.

At last Kuchinja spoke again, in a somewhat calmer tone. "What is done is done. Now we must decide quickly how to prevent all we have worked for from collapsing."

Njaa swallowed, then stammered, "B-but if Mfalme is dead, we really only need to worry about Dhahabu. The rest of the pride will be forced to follow our wishes if we can only eliminate him."

In a rare vociferous moment, Vita spat, "Yet even now Jahili may be leading him and his pride right to us."

Glumly Njaa turned back to Kuchinja—only to see him staring thoughtfully at Vita. "Yes...they will be led right to us..."

Ushindi blinked, confused. "What are you talking about, brother?"

Njaa was wondering the same thing, but before he could probe Kuchinja, the gray lion's mouth twisted in a smirk and he stepped forward to the center of the gathering of brothers. As all eyes turned to him, including those of Mwoga and Ukware, who had hung back from the lions until this point, Kuchinja raised his voice. "They will be led to us—but to a place of our choosing, not theirs. All is not lost. As you say, Njaa, Dhahabu is our last major threat. Together, we can defeat him."

The other five lions exchanged an uncertain look. They were strong and powerful, but Dhahabu had a whole pride behind him. Kuchinja was being overly optimistic.

The gray lion snarled and slammed a paw against the ground. "What is wrong with you? Yes the odds are against us—but we are the sons of Giza, and he would not stand for this craven attitude! Do not be niggard with your courage, prove you are worthy of the goal!" He glared first at Kufa, Vita, and Ushindi, the youngest of them, clearly questioning their fitness.

Almost as one the three stiffened and lifted their heads with pride. Then Kuchinja turned toward Njaa and Tauni, his littermates. Though both were reluctant, they could not abandon their brother. Njaa gazed at the light tan lion across from him, and an understanding passed between them. Then they too nodded to Kuchinja.

Giza's eldest at last let a look of respect enter his eye. "That is much better. Now, let us go. We have much to plan, and little time to do it." Quickly he stalked back out into the scorching heat of noonday. The two hyenas scrambled to follow, desperate to please. Ushindi cast a look of disgust in their direction, clearly fed up with their sycophantic ways, as he too joined Kuchinja. Kufa and Vita silently stepped up behind the cream lion, and last of all came Njaa and Tauni.

As the war party headed out toward Kiburi and their destiny, Njaa exchanged a last look with Tauni and stepped close so that he could hear his whisper. "I know you are as worried as I am...for all of us. This campaign has rapidly degenerated, and I fear some of us may not survive. But no matter what happens, I will be there to protect you, brother."

"Thank you...as I shall be there for you." Tauni nuzzled him gently, then forced resolution into his eyes. Njaa smiled in gratitude, but a dark cloud still filled his heart and mind. He only hoped wherever Jahili was, he was faring better than they were...and that his principles would not throw him into worse danger than he had already faced.

* * *

When she at last reached the top of the hill and gazed down into the valley below, Malkia almost lost her faith in her vision. There, lying flat in the dust and dirt, his blood soaked into the ground, was her beloved Mfalme, the corpses of jackals scattered around him. A sob escaped her throat, rising from the depths of her being, scraping through her like the claws of those who had robbed her of her mate.

She registered Dhahabu's presence, frozen on his haunches, his mane hanging to obscure his face while his shoulders shook. But she barely noticed. All she could comprehend was the terrible wounds, as deep and cruel as the chasm that now separated her from the lion she loved.

Weeping, the Queen of Kiburi stumbled down the hillside toward the grisly scene. Behind her trailed the other members of the pride: Mahiri, a look of stunned horror on her face; Tembo, immense and furious in his grief, trails of tears in the dried mud on his skin; the other lionesses, anguish and shock on every countenance; and the cubs...little Mohatu, Busara, and Makani, following silently after their mother, each pale and silent except for the sniffling of Mohatu.

At last, as the pride filed into a circle surrounding their fallen king, Malkia managed to glance at Dhahabu as he raised his head. His expression was ravaged, eyes dull and vacuous, face pinched with bitterness and loss. She swallowed, seeing all at once the change in him...it was as if he had aged five years in the space of a few hours. "Oh Dhahabu..." Her voice was dry and raspy, she could barely speak.

Silently the new king acknowledged her, nodding mechanically. As she turned back toward Mfalme's body, Mahiri stepped close. "I am so sorry, Dhahabu...we tried to get here as fast as we could...but even if we had come sooner it wouldn't have mattered. When I went to fetch the healer, I found she had died in her sleep. She could not have helped us..." The cream lioness bit her lip.

Dhahabu shuddered. "It doesn't matter. He could not have lasted..." There was a darkness in his eyes, as if his soul had been shattered. Mahiri fell back a pace, but then she gathered her courage and stepped to his side, burying her face in his mane. The golden lion placed a shaky paw on her back. "You shouldn't be so forward in public now...I am the king."

"I don't care...you are my mate, and you need me." Mahiri nuzzled him.

It was as if the nuzzle had snapped every sinew in his body. At once Dhahabu seemed to collapse, his body slumping forward as he pulled her into a fierce embrace and cried uncontrollably into her shoulder...

Malkia, too, was in tears, her muzzle pressed into Mfalme's unresponsive cheek. The other lionesses of the pride watched in sorrow, then at last threw back their heads and roared, a powerful sound that quivered in the noonday sun, repeating and shaking the nearby bluff. For long moments clouds passed before the sun, and shadows fell across the land, as Aiheu and the Kings grieved with them.

Tembo's trunk hung listless. He could not tear his eyes away from the lion who had taught him so many things, so much wisdom...the lion for whom he had willingly left his father's side. Now he was truly on his own. Could he now wield that knowledge as Damu had wished him to?

One paw at a time, Mohatu slipped between Malkia's legs until he could look down at Mfalme's face—bloody and wounded, but now unmarked by pain, set in a peaceful expression. Tears stood in his eyes. "G-good-bye, Grandpa..." Offering a small head-butt, the cub threw himself upon the king and wrapped his forelegs around his maned neck. He was soon joined by his brothers, Busara licking the mahogany cheek-fur, Makani chewing gently on his ear. Together the three then cuddled into his mane, professions of love spilling from their small muzzles...

After a long period of silence, one of the lionesses at last turned to Dhahabu and sighed. "What do we do now, sire?"

The golden lion's eyes popped open, and he lifted his head from Mahiri's shoulder. "What did you say?"

"I asked what we should do, sire." The lioness cocked her head to the side. "You are the king now, Dhahabu."

He gasped audibly. Although Mfalme had already said this, and he knew it to be true, to have the throne thrust suddenly upon him... "No..." he whispered. "No, I can't do this..."

At these words Malkia rose from her crouch and paced to her son, with solemn dignity, her red-rimmed eyes now filled with determination. "But you must. You are now the Lion King, it is your mantle and you must bear it for your father's sake, and for the Kings, and for Aiheu."

Slowly Dhahabu's shoulders slumped under the weight of the throne. His head dropped for several minutes. But when he lifted it again, there was acceptance in his eyes. He looked from one lioness to another uncertainly. "I don't know what to do. My father taught me all he knew, but I never expected to put it to use so soon. I'm so confused..."

Mohatu lashed his tail and watched his father. "Uh...Dad? Shouldn't you find out who did this?"

The new king snorted and looked around at the carnage. "Isn't it obvious?"

The cub glanced at the dead jackals, frowning. "But didn't you tell me jackals only ate car—car—"

"Carrion." Mahiri finished Mohatu's sentence thoughtfully. Then she narrowed her eyes. "My gods, he's right! No jackal would attack live prey—certainly not a lion. Not unless he were provoked..."

Malkia and Dhahabu exchanged a quick glance. "You think...?" The former queen trailed off.

The lion nodded. "I'm sure it's Kuchinja. I just can't prove it."

They were interrupted by a sudden cry from Mohatu. When Dhahabu looked back, his son had his nose to the soil, sniffing the dusty ground. "Dad! Grandma!"

Hurrying to the cub's side, Dhahabu wiped the tears from his eyes and peered down. The dust and dirt had been shifted and stirred by the swarming jackals, and their tracks were everywhere. But there, unmistakable despite it being half-erased, was the massive pawprint of a lion.

Fanning out, the lionesses and their king scanned the site of the battle meticulously. Soon another cry came from Busara, then Makani, and then another lioness. Investigating, Dhahabu found four separate sets of tracks. Clearly there had been lions amongst the jackals, driving them. But none of them, according to Malkia, bore Kuchinja's scent.

Dhahabu widened the search, checking along the bluff face, across the valley, and even the nearby hillsides. Intent upon proving his suspicions, he buried his grief and took command, ordering his lionesses with an air of confidence that at any other time would have made Malkia proud. But her mind was elsewhere, still dealing with the death of her mate. It was only half-heartedly that she climbed a hill to check for the telltale signs.

Her apathy was broken, however, when her cursory examination turned up two scents, quite familiar to her. "Son! Come quickly!"

Golden mane swirling back as he rushed up the rise, Dhahabu called out even before he had arrived. "What? What is it?"

"Here." Malkia nodded toward a patch of broken grass blades. "It is the scent of Kuchinja—and of the leader of the jackals. Together. We don't need any more proof than that." Her voice shook with anger.

Dhahabu's mind seemed to explode. Rushing to the area his mother had indicated, he sniffed deeply, ignoring the canine scent in favor of the thick leonine smell. A furious snarl at last became words. "That's it. No more. This time his life is forfeit. And we have the trail now to lead us straight to him." He raised his head and roared fearsomely, a sound that came from deep in his chest. Within minutes the others congregated on the hillside and stared at him questioningly.

"Mark this scent well." He nodded toward the broken grass and watched with burning eyes as each lioness dipped her head to the ground. "That is the scent of a doomed lion. A lion who is as of this moment a walking carcass. A lion whose life now belongs to me. It matters not where he runs, we will find him, and hasten his departure from our lands by streams of blood."

"And what of his brothers?" It was a young lioness who spoke, a few months older than he was. "They did little but harry and kill our herds."

Dhahabu paused to recall her name. "True, Asumini, but they also drove the jackals that murdered my father." His jaw hardened. "If they truly repent, and will not fight us, perhaps I will spare them. But if not..."

Mohatu chuckled and swiped at a grasshopper. "Yeah! We're gonna kill them, aren't we?"

The king shook his head. "No, _you_ will stay here in Kiburi, where it's safe. You and your brothers."

"Awww, Dad..."

"Don't push me, Mo, I'm not in the mood to argue with you." Dhahabu's stern glance silenced the cub. Then the golden lion looked back to Malkia. "Which way did they go?"

The queen sniffed the grass again, then circled the hilltop until she intersected their trail. Following it, she had almost faded amongst the dry vegetation before she turned back. "If they don't deviate, they are headed northwest—toward the gorge, and beyond that the Majonzi."

Dhahabu stared, then gnashed his teeth. "Of course! Why didn't we think of that before? Where else could they hide, where we would never consider looking..." He turned to face the others, pleased to note that each lioness had bared her fangs and appeared ready to kill. "All right, this is what we will do. Maarifa, take the cubs back to the den and guard them until we return. Tembo..."

He locked gazes with the elephant, whose eyes were bloodshot. "You will accompany me, my mother, and Mahiri—as well as all the lionesses we need to break the siege of the Wahamiji once and for all. We will track them, to the gorge and beyond, and exact justice." Slowly the lion gazed down the hill toward the dark form of Mfalme. "But first...we should bury my father."

Eyes lowered, Malkia followed Dhahabu as he paced down the hill into the shade of the bluff once more. One by one Mahiri, the cubs, and the other lionesses moved after them. Trailing at the rear, Tembo flexed his trunk, remembering the day he had helped pull the stone marking Sulubu's grave into place. Now he would be called upon to hoist a stone of greater portent...

As the elephant shuffled through the grass, eyes locked on the ground, he failed to notice the small form of Cheko peering out at the vacated hilltop, a rictal stare on his face. The meerkat backed away into concealment, then turned and scampered back the way he had come, muttering. "Jahili's gotta know about dis..."

* * *

The morning passed with agonizing slowness for Taraji. Her tears had faded long ago, leaving her prone on the hillside, her face buried in her paws, with only an aching numbness, and a dull pain in the depths of her heart. All she could hear was the words that had ruined her love...that Jahili was the son of the lion who had tried to destroy Kiburi, kidnap Mohatu, and possibly even killed her own father. But echoing just as strongly were the words she had given him in reply.

The pain it had caused to say those hateful things to him. She knew he was Kuchinja's offspring, yet his gentle, handsome face would not vanish from her mind's eye. Those beautiful blue eyes...the unspeakable sorrow and longing and shattered hope in them as she had denounced him. The look on his face when she sent him away, telling him she no longer loved him...

Looking up at last, the cinnamon lioness gazed dully at the savanna around her...the clear blue sky, streaked with wispy clouds; the warm currents of the air blowing across her face; the sweet-smelling grass; a line of leaf-cutter ants near her paw; in the distance, a communal nest where ostriches perched on their massive eggs, spreading warmth and life. But all of that meant nothing to Taraji. The sunbeams of midday held no comfort, the scents of the savanna did not invigorate her.

Because what she had said was a lie. She did still love Jahili.

Crying out in anguish, the lioness slammed a paw against the ground. "Why? Why must I love a lion who betrayed me? How is it possible? What am I, one of those lionesses won over by a handsome face and a muscled body? Is that it, it's the fire in his haunches I love?" She moaned and then snarled...she was lying to herself again. It was clearly more than that, she could not escape the overwhelming need to be near him. To caress his face. To hear that soft, sweet voice. He was everything to her. But he was the enemy.

Wasn't he?

Weary, Taraji rested her head on her paws and squeezed her eyes shut. Without her consent, memories flooded her mind...those first days in the cave, when Jahili was recuperating. Especially the day they had shared in their loneliness. How the young lion had told her with such heartbreak about his empty existence—with a father who hated him, and wished for him to do something he didn't want to do. A father who considered him worthless...a family who did not love him.

He had told the plain truth. In fact beyond the lie of his identity, he had never deceived her once—unless he had indeed informed Kuchinja of everything she'd said. But if that had occurred, Kiburi would have fallen long ago—wouldn't it?

Her head spun with confusion and conflicting emotions. She didn't know what was true anymore. Where did her loyalties lie? And Jahili's? Had his pain all been an act? Taraji opened her eyes and watched the leaf-cutter ants for some time before she came to a conclusion. No it had not been. The emotion in his eyes had been genuine.

But he had mated with her, rather than warn her of Mfalme until it was too late. Could it just have been the pheromones? Had he been overcome by his love and passion? Or had he known she would reject him, and so dallied until he had at last achieved the culmination of his desires?

Taraji groaned. She couldn't believe he would do such a thing. He had always seemed so sincere, so tortured by his past—and with a father like Kuchinja she could easily understand that. He had tried to warn her not to associate too closely with him. And in fact he had told her if she knew the truth she would hate him.

Eyes unfocused, regarding some distant vision no one else could see, the lioness recalled bitterly what she had said to him then...that she could never hate him. Was that still true? And if so...what fate did that decree for her? Tears sprang anew...her brother would never understand. He would see only the son of a usurper. A threat. A menace to be driven out, or killed. She suspected he knew of her outings, but he had never questioned her, because she had been happy, and then his cubs had arrived and absorbed his time. She could only imagine how he would react. Her mother too would be appalled.

Then a terrifying thought came to her. If they did not kill or drive out Jahili, they might exile her instead, for her treason.

Finding her voice again, Taraji wailed. "But I can't help it! He...he's not like his father! At least...I don't think he is. He's gentle and caring and kind—or was that all feigned? No it couldn't be...it was too real. And so are my feelings..." She dug her claws into the soil, then fiercely swiped her paw across the ground, scattering uprooted tendrils of grass and clods of earth in a dark spray.

Flipping over onto her side, she breathed raggedly as she tried to force Jahili from her thoughts. But just as she thought she was successful, she caught his scent on the blades beside her, left over from the night before. And with that scent came the familiar rush of memories. Over and over, she heard him say he loved her. She could see his eyes as he said it. The pure emotion residing there.

And then other words returned to the forefront...when he had told her to forgive him for what he would say. A realization suddenly burst upon her. Jahili had not been obligated to tell her the truth. He could have continued lying, never revealing himself. And if he were truly like his father, if he plotted the downfall of Kiburi and cared not one whit for her, he would have done so. But he had not.

_He had not..._

The enormity of this thought struck a blow to her heart. Could she have been wrong about Jahili? Was it still possible to fill the void in her chest, to find happiness in life again?

Gazing down at the ground, Taraji looked absently at her shadow and saw that it was angled behind her. In shock she realized it was now early afternoon! Lost in thought, she had wasted precious time...time in which she could have learned of her father's fate, or helped Dhahabu against Kuchinja.

Rising to her paws, she wiped her eyes and turned eastward...but abruptly froze in her tracks.

Standing just behind her, chest heaving from his frantic run to this lone hill, was Jahili.

For nearly ten minutes, no words passed between them—at least, none that had been vocalized, for countless emotions and thoughts danced in their eyes. Taraji could not look away, Jahili's eyes were too overpowering. She could see they were rimmed with the redness caused by bitter tears. But at the same time, the depth of love and devotion in them was unchanged. They burned with it. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly, but no longer from his exertions.

Uncertain of what her own eyes revealed, but suspecting the truth, Taraji finally broke the silence. "You...came back..."

"I had to." That voice...so filled with pain and need, and so...loving. Even after what she had said to him.

Swallowing hard, the lioness did not, could not, know what words to use to fill the breach. They fled from her, scattering like frightened guinea fowl. At last she managed to whisper, "Why?"

Jahili gently but firmly placed a paw on her shoulder. Taraji quivered—from fear or desire she could not tell. "Don't speak. I know you detest me now, but please, set your emotions aside for the sake of your pride. There is something you need to know." Before she could protest, the lion lowered his head and muttered into his mane. To her disbelief a meerkat emerged from the layered brown tresses to perch on Jahili's shoulder.

"This is Cheko," Jahili introduced the small animal, who regarded Taraji without a trace of fear. "He serves Mfalme."

Taraji blinked, then in spite of herself, she laughed. "Oh he does, does he?" She smirked at the meerkat. "Then how come I've never seen you before in my life?"

Cheko squirmed beneath her amused gaze, then looked up to Jahili, who was frowning intensely. "Well, Cheko?"

"All right, so I lied! Ya wouldn't have listened ta me if I hadn't. But I still helped ya, didn't I?" The meerkat crossed his arms defiantly.

"Yeah you did." Jahili relaxed, then managed to chuckle, but he stopped when he noticed Taraji's questioning look. "He helped me get my priorities straight...and kept me from leaving this world in favor of the next."

Taraji's heart nearly stopped. The thought that only an opportunistic meerkat had come between her and never seeing Jahili alive again... "That...would have been wrong. No matter what has happened, I don't want you dead."

"That's good to know." The mahogany lion lowered his eyes uncomfortably, then shook himself. "But that doesn't matter now. Cheko, tell her what you told me."

The meerkat glared at Taraji for a moment, then began speaking, his tongue racing to keep up with his thoughts. "Well, Jahili here had me run inta Kiburi an' see what was goin' on. I had ta run as fast as I could, an' I tell ya, dere were lotsa close calls! First a snake tried ta bite me when I got too close ta her den, an' den when I was runnin' away from her a hawk swooped down an' tried ta make a meal outta me, but I got hold of a stick an' beat her claws away, an' den—"

Jahili stomped a paw, causing Cheko to lose his balance and fall to the ground. "Get to the point!"

"I'm gettin' dere, I'm gettin' dere!" The meerkat brushed himself off as he stood up. Then he turned a sad gaze to Taraji. "I'm sorry ta tell ya dis...but when I got ta Kiburi an' asked around, I found out all de pride was down south, where a bunch of jackals killed your father."

Taraji's jaw trembled and she looked at Jahili. In his eyes was reflected the same horror, muted only by the passage of time since he had first learned it himself...horror, and intense guilt. Instantly she wanted to embrace and nuzzle him, tell him it was all right. But she could not. Things might not ever be all right again.

Finally she turned shakily back to Cheko. "What about my brother? And Kuchinja?"

"Dey figured out Kuchinja was behind de jackal attack, an' so your brother, who's de king now, is takin' dat elephant an' a bunch of lionesses after 'em. Dey found deir trail an' are followin' it ta de gorge, an' after dat de Majonzi."

When it was clear the meerkat had no more to say, Taraji lifted her head and gazed toward the northwest. For a long time she said nothing, her heart wrestling with a difficult decision. When she looked back to Jahili, Cheko was on his shoulder again and his expression was one of loneliness, but also determination. "Jahili, I..."

"You don't have to say it. I know you don't want me here. But right now there are things going on that are bigger than the both of us." The young lion set his jaw. "I won't let my father succeed, no matter what you think of me. I am going to stop him, end this war, and I don't care if you hate me, as long as you let me do what has to be done." His voice shook as he said this, and she instantly knew how much it hurt him to say those words.

Before he could continue she growled softly, cutting him off. But then, as he eyed her guardedly, Taraji stepped close and returned his earlier gesture of the paw on the shoulder. "What I was going to say," she whispered, "is that I want you to come with me. I can't forgive you...not yet. I don't know if I ever will. But I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I realized you never meant to hurt me. Nevertheless, you did, and that will take time to heal. But meanwhile, our families are in danger and I can't stop your father alone. I need your help, Jahili."

The mahogany lion's eyes bulged. It was clear he had never thought he would hear those words, that his heart had been set stoically on a solitary sojourn and even a sacrifice if need be. Slowly his expression softened into one of gratitude and acceptance. "I...understand, Taraji. And you're right...preventing any more death is paramount to anything else. But forgive me for this..." He moved even closer, and slowly, tentatively, licked her cheek before moving to her muzzle, giving her a sensuous kiss.

Taraji stiffened in place—but not in anger. The feelings rushing through her were the same as before. She could feel the love in her heart. And it frightened her because she did not know what its consequence would be.

She returned the kiss, then pulled back. "It's...all right. I understand why that just happened." She hoped he could not see through her falsehood, she had absolutely no idea why she was still drawn to him. Could she sense his innate goodness? "But don't let it happen again, we have a higher task now."

Jahili nodded, though from the look in his eyes she could tell he wished it could be otherwise. And Taraji found herself wishing the same. She could not resist melting in his gaze...

"Well I'm comin' too!" Cheko blurted out. "I ain't gonna miss dis! An' maybe I can help."

Jahili chuckled. "Maybe you can. But anyway, I owe you, so sure, come on."

As Cheko burrowed back down into his mane, the young lion paced along Taraji's side, admiring her every muscle as they picked up speed and descended the hill, moving toward the northwest, retracing his trail. He knew he had no reason to keep his hopes up. A time of stress and danger lay ahead, and what had just happened was no more than physical. It would be a long time before he could earn her trust again, but he swore to himself he would do so.

Taraji, too, watched Jahili, respect returning to her eyes. Once more, he had surprised her...taking the initiative, learning the truth and setting out to undo his father's schemes. But at the same time, she hesitated. This could be more of an elaborate web of deceit. A plan to lure her to her doom, with the meerkat as his accomplice. Or perhaps they would indeed find her brother, but when they arrived Jahili would do nothing to help.

Doubt grew...but then she caught the open honesty in Jahili's eyes and chided herself. She truly knew nothing but what her heart told her. It could lie, but she felt it was not doing so. Still, nothing would be certain until she could learn his true intent and act accordingly.

The two lions loped faster, perfectly matched. But Taraji swore they would not be a match until she had satisfied her need for proof, proof of his integrity. Setting her face forward, she instead allowed her thoughts to return to Mfalme. Silently she apologized for not being at his side when the end came, and her fury at Kuchinja rose, equaled only by her keen distress. Mfalme's kind and handsome face came to her unsummoned, eclipsing Jahili's...yet the love in their eyes was the same.

The wind whined past her face as they sped onward, bringing moisture to her eyes...but that was not its only source.

* * *

A halo of thick black mane tossed and swirled around Kuchinja's head as he stood atop the cliff at the northern end of the gorge, gazing down the ledged slope toward the rocky floor stretching off into the distance. Every seam and crack on the boulder-strewn sides of the yawning rift stood out in relief as the angled light of afternoon cast sharp shadows on their ridged surfaces.

The dry, nearly barren floor was an expanse of rough terrain, with bands of light and darkness stretched across it. Stunted trees grew scattered here and there, offering scant shade. And the only sign of motile life was a lizard or two on the stones—for all intents and purposes, the gorge was a no-man's-land of dull vacuity, a place no one would wish to visit.

Perfect for a clandestine foray into Kiburi.

Kuchinja smirked as his brothers and the hyenas at last achieved the heights beside him. Mwoga and Tauni were winded, but the others seemed fueled by the same lust for power and vengeance as he was, and showed a tenacity and cunning that would be deterred by no lion, let alone a paltry feature of nature. An unholy light burned in Kufa and Vita's eyes...Ushindi snickered and licked his lips in anticipation, while Ukware regarded the jagged cleft with a narrowed gaze, gauging its suitability for ambush and defense.

Only Njaa remained unaffected by the taint of avarice and belligerence, marked instead by a suffering conscience...haunted by thoughts of the missing Jahili, the innocent lionesses of Kiburi, and a young lion who had suddenly been thrust unprepared into the violent upheaval of a conflict that would most likely end his brief reign simply because of the sins of his father...

The golden tawny lion's head lowered, his chestnut mane shifting to fall across his face, when a loud snarl from Kuchinja arrested his attention. "Here is the entrance to our kingdom—the path to our inheritance. All lies open before us, it is ours to claim. Dhahabu cannot prevent our victory!" The gray lion's muzzle twisted with a fearsome grin.

"Well then, let us cease discussing it and act instead," Kufa muttered.

Mwoga laughed, a rather jittery sound, and nodded. "Yeah, get your haunches movin' so we can rip their throats out!"

Everyone burst into snide, sarcastic laughter except for Tauni, who only chuckled weakly, and Njaa, who remained silent. When their mirth died away, Kuchinja nodded and began picking his way down the slope toward the bottom of the gorge, muscles flexing in keen excitement. "Rather crude, but certainly a statement with which I cannot argue..."

Step by step, paw by paw, the Wahamiji and their two hyena allies proceeded smoothly and without hurry down the rocky incline until at last all stood gathered at its base. Njaa cast a worried look at the unstable cliffs on either side as he followed Kuchinja warily into the throat of the gorge.

As the others followed, he chanced a quick glance at his brother and flinched instinctively—Kuchinja was eyeing him, with a scowl of such repugnance and anger that Njaa stepped back. But it was his eye that frightened him most. It burned with a furor of such intensity...at the same time there was a wild, frenzied look about it.

Instantly he knew that Kuchinja had gone mad. Whether it had always been so, or whether Jahili's love for Taraji had pushed him over the brink, he knew not. But he could not deny it, he could not fool himself. The golden tawny lion sidled away from Kuchinja, shuddering uncontrollably.

The gray lion chuckled, thinking it was a weakening of his resolve, an acceptance of their path, that he saw in Njaa's face, but it was not. What Njaa felt was the intense fear which can only stem from knowing one's fate is in the paws of the insane...

* * *

At the far end of the gorge, where the canyon walls widened and opened out into an expanse of scrub brush and sere vegetation, the equally muscled form of the youthful Lion King, Dhahabu, stood poised for battle, his thick golden mane blazing in the sunlight as if fire licked his furred face and sprang from his very flesh.

The lionesses of Kiburi were ranged behind him, ten in number counting Mahiri and Malkia, and each bore a look of awe and respect on their faces as they gazed at him, except for Malkia, whose nose was to the ground, inhaling the scents of the lions they tracked. Tembo rose from their midst like a granite mountain, a murderous look in his eyes.

At last Malkia lifted her head and nodded slowly. "I was right. They passed this way...into the gorge."

Dhahabu sighed gratefully. "Thank you, Mother." He shifted his eyes away, unwilling to see the tears still shining on her cheeks from the burial of Mfalme, for fear they would inspire further tears from himself...tears he could not afford to shed now, when so much lay at stake.

While his head was turned aside, he felt a soft nuzzle against his neck and glanced up to regard Mahiri, eyes overflowing with sympathy. Struck anew by the glorious beauty and compassion of this lioness, and his own luck in having her as his mate, the golden lion purred, licking her cheek tenderly, before regaining his composure and facing the waiting lionesses.

"I cannot tell you what lies ahead. Any or all of us may go to meet the Kings this day, and to bow before my father once more. Kuchinja will be merciless, I can promise you that, and I expect no less of his brothers. I also cannot pretend to any skill in leadership or warfare...hopefully that will come with time. Most of you have known me all my life, so you trust me. But I cannot promise I will not make mistakes, today or in the future.

"But I will do my best...that is all anyone can offer, even my father when he lived." Dhahabu took a shuddering breath. "And I hope that Aiheu and the Kings will grant us leave to achieve justice, and right the terrible wrong Kuchinja has wrought upon our lands. I will strive for it...this cannot remain unpunished..."

He paused again, meeting each lioness's gaze. Mahiri fairly exuded love and acceptance; Malkia beamed with pride and wonder, while the others returned rapt gazes of confidence and hope. At last he looked directly at the young lioness who had earlier spoken of clemency for the brothers of Kuchinja.

"Asumini...I see you brought along your healer's pouch. Good...keep it close, you may need it before the day is out." Dhahabu nodded toward the small satchel made of cured impala hide suspended from a thong around the lioness's neck. It had been a gift from Busara—not his son, of course, but a mandrill who had saved Asumini's life after she suffered major injuries in a hunt.

In spite of himself, a soft smile crossed Dhahabu's face as he recalled her return to Kiburi...it had only been three months before his journey to Kusini, and his father had still been gradually introducing him into matters of pride business. That day, Asumini had not been able to stop praising the mandrill's skills, and Mfalme on his part had been most impressed by the tale. Busara had of course trembled as he was brought before the king and his son, but he'd had nothing to fear.

That very moment Mfalme had declared peace between lion and mandrill and had decreed mandrills would nevermore be hunted in Kiburi. A debt had been repaid...though Mfalme had not ended it there, but insisted on paying his respects to Busara from time to time, visiting his cave and his wife Kima. In the months since then Dhahabu had seen how much his father came to care for the mandrill—which was why when by pure chance Mahiri had named her secondborn Busara, the Lion King had been overjoyed...

Tears suddenly welled up in Dhahabu's eyes as he heard Mfalme's rich voice, saying the cub would grow to be as wise as his namesake one day. All of that was gone...so much had changed. His father, torn away by the cruel machinations of Kuchinja. Asumini, healed, but bereft of the young rogue she had taken as a husband shortly before that fateful hunt...he had been attacked by another rogue on the borders, and the infections that had set into his wounds led ultimately to a fatal fever neither Busara nor the leopard healer could cure...

Dashing the tears away, Dhahabu pushed aside once again his grief and the thought that if only the jackal attack had not happened so far distant, Busara could have aided Mfalme. Instead he shook himself and turned back toward the gorge. "The time has come. Now that we know where they've been, let's find where they are."

As one, the twelve members of the impromptu posse pressed onward, anger and a burning desire to exact retribution from the Wahamiji enflaming every muscle. Following their king, the lionesses and Tembo moved into the shadows of the cliffs and marched around the first bend in the gorge.

* * *

The two war parties caught sight of one another at the same moment, as both turned through a jagged angle in the rift to enter the broad flats at the center of the gorge. For a few seconds no one moved, frozen twenty yards apart as each side assessed the other's strengths and weaknesses. Dhahabu was pleased to note the trepidation on Kuchinja's face as he regarded Tembo.

But the fear soon faded into a sly grin, and the young king felt distinctly uncomfortable. Watching the lions arrayed across the gorge, he managed to retain his calm yet furious demeanor and moved forward, crossing the deserted ground with his subjects at his back. Kuchinja approached similarly, and soon all were close enough to be heard without shouting. Dhahabu lifted his head, chin thrust out imperiously, and spoke in a low, threatening voice. "You made your last mistake, Kuchinja. All that waits for you now is a slow, painful death."

Kuchinja laughed derisively. "I think not, Dhahabu...vengeance is now mine, but one more stands in my way. It is you who shall not live to see the sunrise, while what waits for me is the lands of Kiburi to which I am the rightful heir..."

Snarls and growls arose from the lionesses at Dhahabu's back, as each raised her hackles and crouched low. Malkia in particular offered a frightening guttural sound, her fangs bared and teeth clenched as tears of hatred ran from her eyes.

The gray lion pursed his lips in a false pout and inclined his head slightly, as if studying a helpless cub. "How thoughtful of you to join us, Malkia...have you come to collect on that little promise you made to my father the day he killed Sisasi? I can assure you no lioness has ever complained after I serviced her."

Howling in outrage, the infuriated lioness lunged toward Kuchinja, but Asumini and another lioness leaped after her and dragged her back. The lion snickered and shook his head. "Why whatever is the matter—oh yes, that piece of carrion you called a mate died last evening. I'd forgotten...what was his name...?"

A thunderous blast from Tembo's trunk cut Kuchinja off and silenced him instantly. In the deathly stillness that followed, Dhahabu tried to ignore his mother's weeping as he stepped closer still to the scarred face before him, trembling with pent-up rage. "How dare you...how...how..." He could not find the words to express his emotions. "You will pay for this, you vile..." At last he broke into a string of blistering curses so venomous that one of Kuchinja's brothers, the golden tawny one with the chestnut mane, turned an ashy gray in the face.

Single eye trained on Dhahabu, Kuchinja nodded in approval. "Now that's the spirit! I always want my victims fighting tooth and claw before I kill them. Although you'll have to do better than that—those aren't really insults, since I've been known to do that to any number of females."

The two chocolate-colored lions laughed uproariously at this...but as Dhahabu ground his teeth and stepped toward them, another sound penetrated the fog in his brain. A high, annoying yelp accompanied the normal laughs...the yelp of a hyena. As his head snapped sharply in its direction, two of the grayish animals stepped into view from behind Kuchinja. "Hoo boy, has he ever!" one cried enthusiastically, her tongue flicking across her teeth. "If I weren't a hyena, you couldn't pry me away from him!"

Something exploded inside Dhahabu as all at once that voice and the mohawk-like mane on the hyena's neck was joined by a familiar scent. "_YOU_!"

Before he could leap upon Mwoga, Kuchinja stepped between them. "Ah, I see you remember my little spy...oh yes, did I neglect to mention she worked for me?" He shook his head, clicking his tongue softly. "How careless of me...yes, Mwoga was quite lurid as she described to me each and every slash and tear she and her mate inflicted upon your brother. I could listen to such a tale countless times..."

Roaring in outrage, Sulubu's battered body floating ghost-like before his eyes, Dhahabu sprang forward, his powerful hind legs thrusting him at the smug visage of Kuchinja. But the gray lion calmly swung a massive paw, striking the young king across the face and hurling him to the ground. As he scrambled up, Kuchinja strode toward him. Blood boiling, Dhahabu snarled, "You even robbed me of my _**BROTHER**_?"

Kuchinja nodded with false gravity, breaking it with a yawn. "I took your brother, and your father...now only you remain between me and the throne...a technicality I will deal with now..."

He raised a paw to gesture to his brothers, not noticing Njaa had fallen back in horror, but before they could move Dhahabu gathered all his considerable strength and pounced, bearing the lion down. At the same moment the king snarled, "Attack!"

Kuchinja threw Dhahabu sideways until they were rolling across the ground, paws encircling his neck, even as the other bit savagely into his mane. Simultaneously, the opposing forces of lions and lionesses dove toward each other with ear-splitting cries, except for Njaa, who instead was attacked by two lionesses at once before he could fall back to safety.

In moments all was a blur of dust, blood, and sweat as the battle for Kiburi's future began.

* * *

(A/N: So now you've met Timon's ancestor [don't worry, he's the last character of real importance to be introduced, and as you can see he's mostly comic relief, sounding board, and sidekick], and had a few more hints at other members of Kiburi. There will be some other lionesses in the next chapter who were there all along but never given names, basically to flesh out the pride without getting the story bogged down by too many characters, and to allow me to describe fight scenes without constantly saying "the lioness" all the time. None of them are meant to have much characterization so try not to feel overwhelmed. And of course as I said at the start of the fic, Asumini and the mandrill Busara are from "Chronicles of the Pride Lands". Plenty of revelations this time around, as well as continued parallels with the movies; only this time the Kovu and Kiara couple may actually have more active roles. Next week, lots and lots of fighting. R/R!)


	10. Chapter 10: Retribution and Justice

_(As I mentioned, several 'new' lionesses are introduced here, i.e. given names so that the fight scenes can become a little less tedious. Most of them, save Malkia's sister, don't have much backstory or characterization hinted at, so don't worry about getting to know them_—_they're here as placeholders to help center the action and give again that sense of realism, that there are other stories going on in the background which aren't really relevant to the main plot. Don't worry, most of the action still centers on the characters you've come to know so well. And yes, just about everybody has a role.)_

* * *

**Chapter 10: Retribution and Justice**

The ground shook violently beneath Tembo's pounding feet as the elephant barreled toward Kufa, two lionesses flanking him on either side, yowls of fury rising from their throats to split the humid air. But before they could draw within two feet of the dark brown lion, Kufa turned at an angle, skidding through the dirt so that the elephant passed over him.

The lion at once leapt high, clawing at Tembo's sensitive underbelly and drawing thick blood to drip onto the barren earth. Trumpeting in fury and pain, the elephant stomped uncontrollably, attempting to catch Kufa beneath his crushing feet, but the lion dodged each descending missile—although several times he escaped death by mere inches.

Sidestepping the danger altogether, Kufa slipped out from under Tembo—but one of the lionesses was waiting for him and hurled herself into the fray, claws slashing across his face. Momentarily blinded, he was unable to prevent her from springing to his back and biting into his neck. Snarling, he whirled and threw himself against Tembo's trunk-like leg. The force jarred the lioness loose, and she fell to the ground groaning.

Chuckling, Kufa raised a paw to cut deep into Tembo's leg, when the other lioness tackled him from the side. The lion slammed to the ground and rolled, the lioness grappling with him with a fierceness that surprised him. Tearing his claws into her throat, he tumbled into an upthrust rock, scraping the fur from his back. Despite the searing pain, he continued to clamp his jaws across her windpipe...not seeing the shadow looming over him...

* * *

Across the gorge, Vita was in an equally precarious situation. Two lionesses had him backed against one cliff wall, their lips writhered back to expose gleaming ivory fangs. Standing his ground, the dark brown lion vacillated from side to side, trying to draw the lionesses out of position, but they did not fall for his feints, instead pressing in closer.

Finally in a desperate gamble the lion sprang at the smaller of his adversaries, his forelegs wrapping around her neck as his weight bore her to the ground. Twisting as he fell, he rolled her sideways, his hind legs lifting to slash deeply at her underbelly. But the lioness bit into his forepaw, and Vita howled as he both heard and felt the bones breaking.

At that moment the other lioness slammed into him, spilling him off her pridemate. Limping, the lion stumbled away back onto the open expanse of the gorge floor and managed to duck another swipe of a paw. With freedom of movement once more granted to him, Vita gritted his teeth and rested as much of his weight as he could on his broken paw, lifting the other to strike a massive blow across the face of the smaller lioness, who was in the midst of pouncing furiously onto his back. She fell away, holding a paw to the terrible gashes across her eye and cheek.

But he could relish in the blood soaking her paw for a short moment only, as the other lioness began stalking him in eerie silence...without growls or snarls, only a menacing bloodlust burning in her eyes as she forced him back in an ever-tightening spiral, teeth bared as the muscles in her hindquarters tensed for the thrust of a powerful pounce...

* * *

Isolated from the rest of the vicious fighting, Ushindi felt a trickle of nervous sweat run from beneath his cinnamon mane as he faced Mahiri's infuriated grimace, and her considerable fangs. One paw at a time she backed him along the gorge, having already driven him this far by sheer strength of muscle, for despite being male he was not as powerful as his brothers.

Each blow from her deadly paws had sent shivers of pain throughout his body and left lacerations all across his face and neck. He had of course fought back valiantly, but just as he had caught her off guard and pinned her, the lioness had outmaneuvered him, slipping one hind leg free to slam it into his underbelly, spilling him to the ground. Alone and unaided, he had retreated...but now she had him where she wanted him...

Suddenly he stiffened in fury. Was he a son of Giza or not? He should not be cowering, he should be striking fear in this pitiful lioness's heart! Narrowing his eyes, he growled menacingly and halted, tensing his muscles for a strike. Mahiri echoed his stance, and leaped simultaneously so that the two crashed together in mid-air. In desperation Ushindi bit deeply into the lioness's neck as he wrapped his paws around her shoulders. She retaliated by digging her fangs beneath his mane into his own neck, drawing blood.

Together the two slammed into the ground and rolled, clawing at each other's pelts and slashing at straining muscles. Mahiri landed atop him and pressed downward, her claws puncturing his chest. Roaring in pain, Ushindi slammed a paw across her face. Blinded momentarily, the lioness loosened her grip and the cream lion slipped out from beneath her, dashing away further down the gorge.

But in moments Mahiri was following, and Ushindi had no choice but to continue on, although each step he took in flight galled him. Stumbling over a rock, he rounded a bend and leaped forward over a small crevasse, hoping that there would be a place to hide up ahead from which he could ambush the lioness...before the dead end lived up to its name...

* * *

Raking his hind claws deep into Dhahabu's underbelly, Kuchinja bared his fangs and tore into the golden lion's shoulder, relishing the ripping sensation as flesh gave way. Dhahabu roared in anguish, but lifted his free paw to slash down the blind side of Kuchinja's face, eliciting a howl of pain from the gray beast pinning the young king to the gorge floor.

Using this distraction, Dhahabu thrust sideways, sending them both rolling. A small crevice diverted their course, sending them flying into the cliff wall. As the two separated, Kuchinja leapt to his paws and brought his forequarters to bay, shoulders heaving in fury as his paws slammed into the ground and launched him forward.

Dhahabu shook his head groggily as he struggled to rise. He had a brief glimpse of the other battles nearby—Kufa, rolling up against an upthrust rock as he attempted to crush the windpipe of his aunt Simana, while Guyana and Tembo rushed in their direction; and Vita, backing away from the vicious teeth of Detera as she stalked him, followed closely by Huyjinga.

Then Kuchinja was upon him, and he could see nothing but the sweat-soaked gray fur of his adversary and the flexing muscles as the son of Giza threw him back into the dirt and pinned him in place. Blood surging, Dhahabu kept his forelegs rigid even as Kuchinja pressed close, fangs flashing in impotent fury just inches from his vulnerable neck. His eye blazed a vivid red, sending a chill down the young king's spine.

Grinning fiendishly, Kuchinja thrusted against the younger lion's limbs again and again, bearing down on the muscles keeping them stiff. At last they weakened, and his legs buckled. Snarling in triumph, Kuchinja plunged downward—only to rear up again in pain as a set of claws buried themselves in his shoulders, accompanied by fangs digging into his withers. Sparing a glance back he saw Malkia perched atop his back, a stark vision of bestial savagery in her gaze.

Whirling, he stumbled off of Dhahabu and rolled his shoulders, trying to dislodge his attacker. Crashing into the cliff wall, he felt her slip free, but in the same moment his own head connected with the rock. Suddenly dizzy, the gray lion staggered in the opposite direction, feeling the blood trickle down his temple...only to see Dhahabu on his paws before him, crouched and ready to pounce...

* * *

Borne down by the weight of two lionesses, Njaa struggled to escape their grasp, muscles surging as he fought their furious attack. But he made certain not to injure them anymore than necessary...his massive paws as they slammed into leonine shoulders drew no blood for their claws were sheathed, and the bites that he gave were not deep and far distant from the vital organs and blood vessels. Yet even so the golden tawny lion was valiant, and in moments he succeeded in breaking free and whipping around to bring his fangs to bay.

To one side, Tauni battled in a similar conflict, but he was faring much worse. Despite the fact that he was more vicious and used teeth and claws to their full advantage, the tan lion had been caught off guard in the initial assault, and as a result his chest and shoulders now dripped thick rivulets of scarlet, and one ear was torn. The wheezing of his breath, coupled with the painful spasms in his sides as he stumbled across the ground, revealed he had bruised several ribs, if not cracked them, when one of his attackers had sent him rolling into a broken pinnacle of rock rising from the gorge floor.

Njaa watched in sorrow as his brother took a blow to the head and nearly lost his footing. Attempting to maneuver closer to Tauni so that he would be free of enemies on at least one side, the golden tawny lion backed sideways, but each time he sidled in Tauni's direction one of the lionesses would cut him off and drive him away. His temper flared, yet he managed to keep calm even as his brother's cry of pain cut the dust-choked air. Desperate, he raised a mute appeal to the lioness facing him, eyes pleading with her not to force his paw, not to make him kill her...

* * *

As her opponent's chestnut mane stirred in the breeze, Asumini blinked through the haze. Was it her imagination, or had she seen regret in that lion's eyes? And a look beseeching understanding? How was that possible? But the longer she stared into those jaden orbs, the more convinced she became of their sincerity...this lion did not wish to fight her. At present he had no choice...but he was unwilling to harm her unless his own life depended on it.

Shocked, she froze in place, mind racing to unravel what this could mean. Why would one of Kuchinja's brothers not fight to the death against the lionesses of Kiburi for their lands? Could it be that this lion did not want Kiburi back? But then why was he here? It was all so confusing!

Undecided, the lioness again searched Njaa's eyes, and found pain, and anger, but also gentleness. There was a depth to them...she could not explain it but suddenly it felt as if the entire battle had faded away, and the cause for which she fought meant nothing. All that existed was this lion's eyes, for they told such a haunting story—of goodness amongst evil, of respect for others warring with contempt for them, of taking the lesser of numerous ill choices, of compromise and cruelty, of far too much knowledge and yet a certain innocence.

Instinctively she could sense he was not like the others...and yet he fought just as the others did, and did not speak out against his brother. Thus, how could she trust him? Dimly she was aware of the lioness beside her, staring in consternation and disgust, but that did not seem to matter anymore...

* * *

Entranced by Asumini's eyes, burning with such sudden sympathy and curiosity, Njaa was completely unprepared for the weight that slammed into his side as the other furious lioness barreled into him, sending him sprawling across the ground. Before he was aware of doing so, he was fighting back, claws ripping down her sides and chest as she leaped atop him.

The other lioness's cry of restraint was like an echo of another world, for Njaa was in a fight for survival. His opponent seemed on a rampage, tearing into his own muscled chest, prompting a roar of agony from the golden tawny lion. Bashing her in the ear, he was rewarded by a spray of blood as the organ tore nearly in two.

Yowling, the lioness tumbled off of him, but Njaa pursued, leaping across her, pinning her down with his full weight—and burying his fangs in her jugular. The resultant fountain turned her last cry into a gurgle before the lioness collapsed in a heap beneath the lion's body. It was only after he stepped away from the corpse that Njaa came back to himself...staring at what his instincts had wrought, he shuddered. This was no wildebeest, lowly and meant to be preyed upon, that he had driven into a river...he looked up at the stricken Asumini in horror.

But then a snarl of triumph made him whirl. In one instant he saw a lioness slam one paw into Tauni's jaw, and then his brother lost his balance and stepped into a gopher hole. The snap of his ankle could be heard even through the tan lion's scream, and then Tauni fell. At once the lionesses swarmed over him...Njaa was in motion, rushing in, paws flailing at the tawny forms, claws digging in and ripping the lionesses away. But by the time he had cleared the space around his brother, Tauni lay weakly on the soil, sides and underbelly shredded in several places, and barely conscious.

Looking up, Njaa saw the lionesses, even Asumini, closing in around him and his brother...they were surrounded. Trapped. His premonition that they would not survive this day had come true. But he swore to himself he would not go down without one last fight. Moving to stand athwart the fallen Tauni, the golden tawny lion stood his ground, crouching low as he readied himself for death...

* * *

Gasping for breath, Simana, Malkia's sister and the only elder left from the days of Giza's rule, struggled beneath the sinewy form of Kufa and glared up at the lion's dark visage. She remembered him as a pudgy and gentle cub who had filled the savanna with an infectious laugh of innocence and humor. How could his years of exile in the Majonzi have changed him so?

Staring at him now, a small part of her felt pride at seeing how strong and powerful he had become...but this was overshadowed by what she saw in his eyes, the depth of cruelty and the emptiness of necessity. The cub Kufa she had known was no more...only this shell remained, and he must be eliminated.

Gathering her muscles, the lioness shifted her hind legs and managed to tear free of his grip, bringing the claws up to rake deeply between Kufa's legs, in his most sensitive place. Howling in sheer agony, Kufa suddenly let go of her neck and rolled off of her, body curled into a protective ball as he writhed on the ground.

Smirking, Simana struggled to her paws in time to see Guyana take advantage of the lion's distraction and pounce, sending both of them tumbling across the soil. Tears of pain trickling down his face, Kufa shook as he threw Guyana aside and began to rise...but suddenly he stiffened in horror as something large, rough, and heavy came down firmly on his back, pinning him in place.

Slowly the dark lion raised his head to stare into the cold gaze of Tembo, a monolith of anger and vengeance, whose mighty foot rested upon his vulnerable spine. Simana, watching intently, saw the flicker of despair in Kufa's eyes, followed by a fear so great it almost made her restrain the elephant. But then she saw something else...in this moment, as Kufa turned to meet her gaze, the warmth was back, and he was the lion she had known. And suddenly she knew she could not allow him to return to his previous state. He must die now, while he was himself again.

An imperceptible nod was all the lioness gave Tembo. Needing no further prompting, the elephant clenched his muscles and shoved downward. The crack of Kufa's backbone sounded like thunder to Simana, and his cry tore at her heart. Unable to continue watching, she turned away, breathing raggedly. When she at last regained her composure and was able to look back, Kufa's last whimper was dying away. His dark eyes closed forever...yet as he let out one last sigh, she could not mistake the look of peace on his muzzle...

* * *

A reddish haze overlay Detera's vision as she stalked Vita, the normally gentle lioness incensed by the horrible fate this lion and his brothers had visited upon her beloved king. She would not rest until their threat was banished forever...seeing the uncertainty and worry in Vita's expression, she chuckled and continued her slow movement, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Huyjinga had maneuvered around behind the lion while he had his attention focused on her. Without shifting her eyes or stance, the lioness twitched her pelt, signaling Simana's daughter to act.

Caught completely by surprise by Huyjinga's sudden leap upon his haunches, Vita whirled instinctively—presenting his neck and chest to Detera. Immediately she pounced, forelegs wrapping around his shoulders and twisting, bearing him to the ground as her fangs buried themselves in his trachea. At once the dark lion was choking on his own blood, struggling beneath her weight, but Huyjinga held his hind end prone and would not relent as her paws worked downward to plunge into his underbelly. Detera grinned fiendishly around the lion's neck, his mane becoming soaked with the essence of Vita's life.

Taking a risk, she briefly released her grip and locked her eyes on his. "Your reign of terror is over...enjoy these last moments knowing I ended it." Dodging quickly as he attempted vainly to snap at her, she ducked down and once more sank her fangs into his neck—but this time, she wrenched away, tearing his throat open. Beneath her paws she felt Vita twitch and spasm and then go limp.

Satisfied, she at last released her hold and rose to stand beside Huyjinga, a superior attitude in her expression as she glanced down at his crumpled body. Although it was rather like a cub to do so, she gave in to an impulse and kicked at the dusty floor of the gorge, spreading the gritty particles in a cloud across Vita's face. Nodding to her companion, she then cast down one last look of contempt and turned away...

* * *

Turning the final angle in the gorge, Mahiri slid to a halt, abruptly confronted by the towering cliff face where the rift first split apart the ground above. Strewn with massive boulders and crisscrossed by numerous ledges, it offered an astonishing number of hiding places, any one of which could conceal the cream lion she pursued. Standing poised and waiting, she strained to hear any pawfalls, or rocks being dislodged, as she ran her eyes rapidly over the scene.

Without warning Ushindi hurtled out of the shadows of a monstrous boulder several yards to the right and sprang. Although her instinct to duck saved her from a bite to the neck and immediate death, the young lion's weight bore Mahiri to the ground and sent her sprawling. Grinning in triumph he pinned her with all four paws, and let out a roar that was fearsome for his size as his fangs flashed in the light of late afternoon.

Unfortunately for him his roar dislodged several rocks the size of his head from the slopes above, sending them tumbling down in his direction. Startled, he lost the advantage of surprise as Mahiri raked her claws down his muzzle and bit into his youthful chest. At once Ushindi fell away, freeing the lioness.

Furious, the lion circled her, but Mahiri would not allow him an opening, instead darting in and out to slash at his unprotected shoulders and then dodging away once more. She grinned openly at his frustration, which only enraged the lion further...and caused him to play into her paws, for his reflexes and strategies were likely to be weaker now, more easily countered.

Still, he was not stupid, he could see how she was baiting him. Clearly struggling against his anger, the cream lion continued to sidle around his counterpart in hue—and abruptly struck, leaping in close to swipe her cheek. The roar of pain Mahiri released once more caused a small landslide of rocks from the ledges overhanging the combatants.

Even as she evaded another blow, Mahiri's incredibly quick mind realized the significance of this discovery—and produced a plan. Maneuvering between a cluster of boulders so that Ushindi no longer had an unobstructed path, the lioness gazed up at the dead-end slope...the loose scree at its base...and the precarious perches on which its geological weapons rested. Smirking, she pounced from hiding and caught her opponent across the haunches, sending yet another roar into the unstable walls of the cleft.

At once Ushindi went on the attack—and though it pained her to do so, the lioness allowed most of his blows to land, drawing blood in countless places. But each one prompted a roar from her throat, which in turn triggered another collapse of rock. But the young lion was too infuriated to notice, avoiding the falling missiles yet still keeping his attention fixed on Mahiri.

Back and forth the two lions leapt, from one side of the gorge to the other, each striking numerous times, each cutting the air with loud yowls and cries, until the intertwined echoes were nearly overwhelming to the ears. A sustained shuddering began, spreading from the highest ledges into the cracked earth beneath their paws. Finally Ushindi realized what was progressing around him, and began jerking his head wildly as he watched the cracking of the slopes in terror. Glaring at Mahiri, he gathered all the strength of his hind legs and pounced—but the lioness met his attack with both forepaws extended, slamming into his chest and hurling him backwards...directly into the wall of the gorge.

Sending up one last roar, this one a cry of triumph, Mahiri landed on her paws, whirled, and raced at top speed back toward the rest of the battle. The resonance begun by her final outcry, coupled with Ushindi's sudden flight into the rock, tipped the balance, and at once a chain reaction of rockslides tumbled from the heights. Ledges tore free, boulders rolled ponderously from their eons of prolonged rest, one entire cliff face gave way. The young lion, still struggling to his paws with a splitting headache, had no chance.

When Mahiri at last felt she was a safe distance away, she slowed to a stop and gazed back. As the last of the echoes died away, and the massive dustcloud slowly settled, the lioness's widened green eyes took in the throat of the gorge, now blocked entirely by a mountain of rock and dirt. After the collapse subsided, and all was calm once more, she peered closer...and spied one pale cream paw emerging pathetically from Ushindi's burial mound. Shivering in spite of herself, the young queen of Kiburi averted her gaze and rushed back toward where her mate and the rest of the pride continued their conflict.

* * *

Mahiri's feat was more impressive than she had intended—the echoes of roars and crashing rocks intermingled to flood the entire gorge with sound. As the cacophony filled the air, every lion and lioness froze in the midst of fighting, paws held in place, jaws hanging, various looks of shock and fear in their eyes. The hyenas Mwoga and Ukware cowered with their paws over their muzzles. Detera and Huyjinga braced themselves, bloodied paws gripping the ground.

Njaa dared to breathe at this sudden reprieve, for Asumini and the other lionesses had turned away from him to stare toward the far end of the gorge. Tembo let out a startled blast on his trunk. Kuchinja peered furtively around him, realized Dhahabu's attention was diverted, and backed far enough away to put himself out of immediate danger.

Then, as abruptly as it had started, the horrible sounds dissipated, fading into the dusty air. In the growing stillness, those who had been consumed in battle at last had a chance to look around and take stock. Despite numerous injuries, many of them quite serious, the Kiburi Pride had only one loss, the lioness Njaa had killed in self-defense. But two of the Wahamiji lay lifeless...Kufa, flat on his stomach with a shattered back, and Vita, coated in the still spurting blood from his vicious neck wound. Neither Ushindi nor Mahiri were anywhere to be seen.

No one dared to move for fear of setting off further landslides...all waited for the sign that the worst was past, as each glanced across the rocky expanse at wounded comrades. Malkia's eyes ran over each of the Kiburi lionesses, fixing upon congealing blood and gaping lacerations with disbelief and anger. Njaa stared at the bodies of his brothers, tears coursing down his cheeks.

Kuchinja too glanced at Kufa and Vita, but with fury rather than remorse. Tembo kept a solemn expression as he checked the extent of Dhahabu's injuries, but the Lion King ignored himself, instead focusing all his worry on the dustcloud from which Mahiri had not yet appeared.

Then, slowly, a silhouette formed in the haze of dust. As it drew closer, it resolved itself into Mahiri—dirty, disheveled, and bloody, yet still the most beautiful lioness the young king had ever seen. Dhahabu let out an explosive breath and smiled warmly at his mate, the pain in his shoulder dulled by the love burning in her emerald eyes. At the same moment Kuchinja took a shaky step backwards—which also happened to move him in the cream lioness's direction.

Spotting the motion from the corner of his eye, Dhahabu snarled and crouched, and Tembo glared furiously at the gray lion. Suddenly all in the gorge seemed to reach the same conclusion at once...the Wahamiji were now greatly outnumbered.

Yet as the lionesses of Kiburi turned their attention to him and began contracting their circle inwards, Kuchinja managed to keep the desperation and panic from his voice, though not from his eye. "It seems I underestimated you, Dhahabu."

A dark chuckle came from the Lion King. "So it does, Kuchinja...I warned you you made your last mistake."

The eldest son of Giza shot a look at Njaa and Tauni, but the one lay unconscious and the other seemed barely in full possession of his faculties himself, probably due to blood loss—and from his expression, Kuchinja doubted he would lend a paw even if he were not incapacitated. Quickly the wounded lion lifted a massive, cautionary paw. "I believe, however, that you are making a mistake yourself, your Majesty." Kuchinja managed to make the term of respect into an insult just by his intonation.

"Oh really?" Assured of his victory now, Dhahabu spoke in almost a conversational tone as he stepped closer to the lion he had vowed to kill. "And what mistake might that be?"

"You seek justice..." The lion licked his onyx lips a trifle nervously. "This requires fairness on your part, even though you surely do not wish to exercise it...it entails giving those of us left a fighting chance. Something you shall deny us if you attack now in overwhelming number."

Dhahabu's brain seethed at the thought of this despicable creature daring to speak of fairness and justice when he had deprived Sulubu and Mfalme of the same rights. Yet a small still voice deep within his heart forced the young lion to examine his actions...and to reluctantly agree with his enemy. Although it would be satisfying to send all of the lionesses, and Tembo, into the fray and watch them rip Kuchinja to shreds, if he gave in to this bloodthirsty desire...he would be no better than the murderer who stood before him.

Yet he could not admit this aloud. Instead, a trifle grudgingly, Dhahabu replied, "Perhaps...yet wounded as you are, even if I brought only two or three lionesses against you, you would perish."

Kuchinja considered this, mind racing, as he felt every wound acutely...the pain wracking his face, shoulders, chest, and withers was enough to make any lion without his incredible stamina faint. In all honesty he was uncertain whether he could overcome the constant agony long enough to achieve victory. "But still I am a formidable foe," he boasted. "You might indeed vanquish me, but you can be certain I would take one or two lionesses with me...and I know how greatly you are attached to your pridemembers. You could not wish any more injury or death than is necessary."

From behind him, Mahiri's proud, determined voice rang out. "Don't listen to him, Dhahabu...he's only baiting you."

Dhahabu smirked at his mate. "You think I don't know that?" Shifting his gray eyes back to Kuchinja, who suddenly looked less threatening and more pitiful to his confident gaze, the golden lion shook his head in amazement. "First my sense of honesty and justice, then my protective instinct toward my pride. What will you try next to stave off the inevitable? It's true I wish no more bloodshed than is necessary...but all who came here this day knew they might die by your paw, and came willingly...because they, and I, see it as a small sacrifice when compared to the evil your death would cleanse from the land."

The circle tightened further still.

His anxiety at a fever pitch now, Kuchinja looked once more to Njaa, but his brother had averted his gaze. The implicit message was obvious: 'You dug your den, now lie in it.' Hurriedly the gray lion tried one last ploy. "But Dhahabu...I know that it is you, and you alone, that you wish to see tear my life from my body. It is you who wishes the greatest vengeance for your brother and your father. It is you who wishes the satisfaction of feeling my last heartbeat beneath your paws."

Flicking his eyes around the circle, he snorted. "You do not need them...you can defeat me without any assistance whatsoever. Surely you do not wish to be a king who depends on his lionesses to win his battles for him?" Carefully masking the disgust engendered by this posturing and false praise, Kuchinja instead focused all his emotion into the final taunt.

It should not have worked. Aware of his foe's trickery and malice, Dhahabu should have resisted the third temptation. But the one thing he still retained from his cubhood, besides that roguish sense of mischief, was his pride. With all the insecurity he bore as a king, Kuchinja had found his vulnerability by assaulting his confidence. He did desire fairness and justice, and he did wish to avert bloodshed...but more than these he wished to prove his worth once and for all.

And defeating Kuchinja alone, by his own paw, would at last give him the greatness he craved.

Most of this did not come as conscious thought, of course. All Dhahabu felt was an intense need to wipe that smug grin from Kuchinja's face...to conquer him himself, and wrest his victory from the son of Giza by his own power.

Mahiri and Malkia both saw the change in his eyes at the same time...and knew they could not do anything to alter his decision. Both were well aware of the golden lion's constant self-doubt, his sense of inadequacy. The same thought entered both their minds as they exchanged a meaningful glance—if Dhahabu survived this, he would finally be free of the prison he had forged for himself since Sulubu's death.

Kuchinja saw the shift in Dhahabu's eyes too, and smiled sardonically. "I take it your answer is no."

Clenching his jaw, Dhahabu nodded slowly. "You're damn right it is...I accept your challenge. This may be a manipulation, but it is also what I wish. I will indeed end your tyranny once and for all...I, and I alone."

With a curt nod, the Lion King indicated to Tembo and the lionesses that he wished them to back away. Reluctantly they did so...all but Tembo. The elephant locked his eyes on his friend and king. "Dhahabu...think of what you are doing! You will face him alone, with no assistance—but what is to prevent him from bringing his allies against you?" He flicked his gaze to Njaa, then to the two hyenas who crouched snarling not far away.

The lion stared, having completely forgotten this detail in the midst of his overconfidence, but before he could say a word Kuchinja stepped smoothly in. "Ah, but I promise this shall be a fight between only your king and I, tusked one."

"The promise of a murderer, a liar, and a thief." Tembo snorted disdainfully. "Now that I trust without a single reservation."

Kuchinja chuckled at the elephant's biting sarcasm. "But you're forgetting one thing...indeed you must trust my word. For you have no other choice."

Glaring belligerently, Tembo was about to retort a reply when Dhahabu cut in gently. "I promise, my friend, that if anyone interferes to aid Kuchinja, you may deal with them as you see fit. But leave him to me."

Slowly the elephant let his trunk fall and lowered his tusks, then began backing grudgingly away. "Very well, Dhahabu. But I hope you know what you are doing..."

_So do I_, the young king thought to himself. But as the center of the gorge was cleared once more for battle, leaving him alone before the sadistic lion who was doomed to die if he had any say in the matter, Dhahabu did not voice his trepidation. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height and spoke in a grim, emotionless tone. "And now it is down to you and me, Kuchinja..." His eyes narrowed dangerously.

The gray lion smirked and unsheathed his claws. "As it was always meant to be..."

* * *

As Tembo and the lionesses of Kiburi retreated from the battleground to take the role of spectators to the ensuing conflict between Kuchinja and Dhahabu, Njaa breathed a slow, shaky sigh of relief. He had been spared. Why, he did not know—but now that the outcome would be decided by a single test of wills and strength, he and Tauni could at last sit out the war in peace.

Turning his gaze to the crumpled, bloodied forms of his brothers, the golden tawny lion shuddered. But at what cost had this been achieved? Renewed tears flowed from his eyes...Kufa and Vita, so young they had been. And Ushindi too...the safe return of Dhahabu's mate could only mean he too had perished. Njaa hung his head.

He still remembered when they had been born, and their eager cub eyes twinkling with delight. And now all that was taken away. But he could not defend their actions either...they had made their choices, and sought revenge and cruelty in the pawprints they trod, and so had led themselves to this fate. Yet that did not change the love he held for them...

Sighing, he turned back to the prone form of Tauni, his sole friend in this time and place. The lionesses had moved away, leaving them alone, but the injuries he had sustained were severe. He flinched as his eyes fell on the bone protruding from the tan lion's forepaw, and as he took in the widening pool of blood beneath Tauni, flowing from deep wounds in his chest, sides, and underbelly. How could he ever survive long enough for him to be healed, assuming that were possible?

A soft crunch of dirt beneath weary paws alerted Njaa to the presence of another. Quickly tensing and stepping in front of his brother, he lifted his head—and was surprised to see the lioness who had faced him before, and chosen not to attack him. A look of sympathy and caring shone in her eyes.

"What do you want?" His voice was not distrustful, accusing, or angry, merely tired. "Hasn't enough blood been shed this day?"

The lioness winced, a hurt expression crossing her face, but then she nodded slowly. "Indeed it has. I have not come here to threaten you. I wish to help." Carefully she sat down on her haunches beside him and lifted a paw to work at the strings of the pouch around her neck with her claws.

Blinking in surprise, Njaa seated himself as well. "What? You would help me, one of the Wahamiji? Why?"

For a long time he thought she would not reply. But then as she finished opening the pouch and reached inside, the lioness said, "Because you are not like the others." She began removing various herbs and powders wrapped in leaves and small strips of leather, setting them on the ground. When she had finished, she looked up into his eyes with sincerity.

"When Mfalme was killed, and we discovered that the Wahamiji had driven the jackals who were responsible, we found all of their scents there...all but yours. During the battle, I saw how you fought—without claws, only in defense, never intending to harm unless your life was threatened. When your brother fell, you stood over him to protect him. You would have given your life to save him. None of your brothers would do that.

"And just now, I saw your tears for those who have died today...but Kuchinja showed no emotion. To him you and your brothers are only tools. He regrets the losses he has suffered as a snake regrets the loss of a skin it has shed. But you...you truly love your brothers. You are only doing what you feel is right."

Njaa's throat worked as he attempted to find the words to respond. This lioness, who had every reason and right to hate him, instead saw the truth of his heart. She did not reject him...she wished to spare him. No one had ever done anything remotely resembling this for him before. How could he deserve this? "But...I killed one of your huntsisters." The observation sounded inane and weak even to him, but it was all he could think to say.

"Only when she forced your paw...you would never have done so otherwise. And afterward you were horrified by what you had done." The lioness's words were gentle and understanding, and sent a thrill of amazed disbelief through Njaa's body.

Managing a grateful smile, he glanced down at the array of healer's supplies on the ground between them. "So you have come to bring healing?" As he spoke it struck him that those words had more than one meaning.

The lioness seemed to realize the same thing, and smiled as she lifted a paw to stroke Njaa's cheek. "Indeed I have. Whatever else happens this day, when it is all over, I wish for you to have a second chance, to prove that you are as good and worthwhile as I now believe you to be."

Glancing at the forms of Dhahabu and Kuchinja in the near distance, circling and eyeing each other as they prepared for the attack, Njaa nodded worriedly, then flicked his eyes back to her. "Then all I can say is...thank you. And I hope I live up to your expectations..." _I hope I simply live_, he amended in his thoughts. Gazing deeply into those eyes he remembered so well from the midst of battle what seemed ages ago, he added, "I am Njaa. And what is your name?"

As she proceeded to unwrap a leaf filled with a mint-scented cream and to rub it gently into the wounds on his chest and shoulders, the lioness murmured, "I'm Asumini."

* * *

Gasping for breath, Jahili slid to a halt at the eastern lip of the gorge, paws gripping the rock as he stared down into the depths of the rift, eyes searching desperately for what he knew in his heart was taking place. And he was not mistaken—in the center of the gorge he spied the lionesses of Kiburi and a massive elephant ranged in a circle, surrounding the muscular forms of Dhahabu and Kuchinja, fangs bared as they prepared to fight. A sinking feeling filled his chest...was there enough time to still avert the battle?

Quickly he shot a glance at the cinnamon lioness beside him. Taraji's eyes were wide with horror and anger. What she intended to do, he had no idea, and frankly his own intentions were vague as well, but they could not stand by helplessly.

She saw him looking at her and swallowed. "We have to do something, Jahili."

"I know." The mahogany lion tried to put as much firmness and certainty in his voice as he could. "But what? Are there words we can say, an action we can take, that won't cost someone their life?"

A small snort came from Jahili's mane, and then Cheko struggled out from under the layers of hair. "Well ya ain't gonna find out by standin' around talkin' about it! Ya gotta get down dere an' get closer!"

The lion nodded and began scanning the rim of the gorge. In a few moments he discovered a ledge only a few feet below him, sloping downward at a steep angle into the yawning depths. Nerving himself, he leaped and landed safely, skidding only a short distance before finding purchase on the loose soil. As Taraji leapt after him, Jahili trotted as fast as he dared along the narrow path, following its angles as it zigzagged across the face of the cliff.

He was about halfway down when more details of the scene below became apparent to him. To his intense relief, Njaa still lived, although he appeared wounded, as he lay beside Tauni while a lioness tended to both of them. But to Jahili's sadness, Kufa and Vita both lay still and lifeless, and even from this distance he could smell the thickening blood.

Mwoga and Ukware were there as well, huddled together off to the side, eyes fixed on the two combatants. In fact, all eyes were on Dhahabu and Kuchinja...a condition that meant no one would notice if he and Taraji approached. Turning to whisper this realization to her, Jahili was surprised to find the lioness frozen in place, eyes filled with shock and fury. "Taraji...what's wrong?"

Her voice was a hiss. "I can't believe it. I never thought I would see that horrible face again!"

Jahili furrowed his brow in confusion and followed her gaze. The incensed lioness was staring at Mwoga. "Who? You mean Mwoga?"

Taraji snarled and bared her fangs. "You know her?"

A sense of foreboding filled his mind. Choosing his words carefully, he replied, "Yes...she works for my father."

An audible gasp came from the lioness's throat, and then she swore. Jahili's eyes bulged, and he blanched when Taraji turned a furious stare upon him, as if she had just condemned him to death. "Then your father was behind it. He is the source of my pain and suffering."

The mahogany lion blinked and struggled to understand what was going on. He had always held Mwoga in contempt, but what about her could be so horrible as to provoke this response? "What do you mean?"

Taraji narrowed her eyes and turned her head to the side, as if studying prey soon to be slaughtered. "You truly do not know what she did?"

Jahili shook his head, not comprehending. "All I ever knew was that Mwoga spied for my father. What else did she do?"

The cinnamon lioness muttered to herself. "That's right, you would have been a cub at the time..." Looking up, she locked her blue eyes on his. "She is one of those responsible for the death of my brother Sulubu."

Jahili's heart turned cold in his chest. Slowly he turned to stare down at the hyena on the distant floor of the gorge. Watching him, even Taraji had to shudder...Mwoga would lie eviscerated if his gaze had the power of fangs and claws. His shoulders heaved for several minutes, and when he looked back at her, the contempt and wrath in his eyes was clear. "She...she...she was the one who did that? All this time, the one who nearly killed you, and killed your heart, was within my grasp all along?"

Taraji nodded, entranced by his building ire. It frightened her, but at the same time brought a great satisfaction. The great bitterness of her life could now be avenged, and if she was reading him right, Jahili would gladly help her achieve it.

As Jahili looked back down at the hyena, a deep growl rumbled in his chest. "She will know the meaning of pain if I have anything to say about it. Let's get down there."

Together the lion and lioness proceeded down the ledges, until at last they gained the cracked and pitted expanse of the gorge floor. Several massive clusters of boulders thrust from the ground, providing the perfect cover for the pair. Slipping from one to another, Jahili drew closer to the building conflict. Finally he was only a few feet from Dhahabu as the golden lion turned to pace around the wounded form of Kuchinja. Absently the mahogany lion removed Cheko from his mane and carefully set him down.

The lion before him was fully as massive as Taraji had described, his muscles surging with raw power, the razors of his claws slashing deep into the soil. He gulped...although his love had always said Dhahabu was gentle and kind, the emotions he saw burning in the young Lion King's eyes now filled him with dread and fear. This lion, he sensed, could kill him with no questions asked. How could he prove to him that he was unlike his father in every way?

Jahili sensed Taraji moving up beside him to join him in the boulder's shadow. Together they watched and listened as Dhahabu and Kuchinja began to speak, hurling insults and taunts...the two waited, muscles tense, for the perfect opening. The chance to spare those they loved. The chance to end this war.

The chance to set things right again.

* * *

Limping visibly as he strode past Kuchinja's sneering visage, Dhahabu struggled to contain the burning wrath within his heart. His ultimate enemy, the bane of his existence, he who had spawned every evil of his young life, stood before him, and yet he could not fight him until he regained enough of his strength. And even once he could do so, the golden lion knew he teetered on the balance between righteousness and corruption, that to give in fully to his desire for revenge on Kuchinja was to become Kuchinja himself. That must be avoided at all costs...

The gray lion chuckled. "If you continue to encircle me in such a manner, you will only make yourself lightheaded."

Dhahabu glared at him. "Your throat is the first thing I will tear out, I think." He stalked a few paces closer as he continued his circuit. "As you well know, I wait until I am strong enough, and until the right opportunity."

Kuchinja shook his head in mock regret. "But such an opportunity shall never present itself, Dhahabu...it is my destiny to rule Kiburi, the Kings have shone their favor upon me."

The golden lion snickered in spite of himself. "Having only one eye has blinded you to the truth, then. By what right do you claim the favor of the Kings?"

Giza's chosen heir squared his shoulders and lifted his muzzle proudly. "The right of birth, the right of lineage...and the right of vindication. If I were not meant to be king, I would never have succeeded in killing your brother and your father."

Dhahabu growled softly, his voice low and dangerous. "Strange logic, Kuchinja...that proves nothing, other than your ability to alter the proper course of events. You acted alone, without the aid of the Kings, and today this hubris has caught up with you. I shall be the instrument of your destiny." His last words rumbled in his throat, sounding like a knell of doom.

Kuchinja abruptly switched directions, passing back to the left. His fangs flashed as he snapped a reply. "Now who is overestimating his own importance? You are as much a usurper in my view as I am in yours."

In consternation, Dhahabu clenched his teeth and snarled. "Why do you persist in this foolishness? Your father was a tyrant! He gave up all rights to kingship when he abused them."

The gray lion's expression was a mixture of fury and confusion. "What nonsense are you babbling? Giza was a powerful king! It is true he was firm, even cruel, but such a ruler is needed when his subjects are lazy and incompetent." He sneered at the watching lionesses, from whom arose a soft muttering.

The Lion King's eyes widened in disbelief. "And this justifies Giza's predations upon the innocent?"

"What innocents?" Kuchinja's single eye narrowed.

Dhahabu's jaw slackened a little. "You mean you truly do not know? Your father wrongfully exiled and murdered my grandfather!"

Kuchinja rolled his eye. "Not that tired tale again...Mkase interfered with the punishment of a disobedient subject, and later attempted to wrest the throne away himself." He smirked. "Apparently the blossom does not fall far from the kigelia."

The golden lion turned on his opponent, stalking close until he loomed in the other's face. "You could not be more wrong...punishment? What a novel way of describing a rape. Wresting away the throne? Giza was paranoid..."

A roar of outrage burst from Kuchinja's throat. "Lies! My father told me himself of Mkase's treachery!"

"No, Kuchinja." Dhahabu's voice rang out, echoing in the confines of the gorge. "It was Giza who lied to you. My grandfather saved that cheetah from your father's lusts, that is why he was exiled...and the only reason for his return to Kiburi was to escape the terrible drought. He never had any intentions of conquering the lands. Unlike you, he was content with the status quo, even though he knew Giza was a terrible ruler. It was Giza's own suspicious nature that led him to kill Mkase...which set in motion the chain of events that leads us to this moment in time. Your vendetta against my father was for naught...it was Giza who was to blame."

The words died away, and the air seemed to quiver with their power. Somewhere behind him, Dhahabu heard the lone brother of Kuchinja left standing gasp in horror. Glancing back, he caught the look of anger on Njaa's face—but it was directed at Kuchinja, not himself. Another snarl burst from a nearby throat, but he could not determine its source.

When he returned his gaze to Kuchinja, the gray lion's chest was rising and falling in a rapid pattern—driven by a desperate urge to deny the truth. "No—that cannot be! My father would never lie to me! He loved me!"

"Not even if he wished you to carry on his evil deeds, even after he himself was gone?" Dhahabu queried with a note of triumph in his voice.

Struggling to argue, the other lion snapped, "What difference does it make? One cheetah female—she was surely asking for such treatment! And if she had not fought back, she would have received more sensuality than she could possibly imagine...as to your father, the death of Mkase still does not justify his murder of Giza!"

Dhahabu stiffened at the chauvinistic and boastful words of his adversary, but he managed to contain his ire. "That is a matter of opinion. And as to Giza's death...I agree with you, it was not justified."

Kuchinja fell back, completely stunned. The observers around them were equally shocked. All eyes were on Dhahabu, who appeared strangely tranquil and calm in his own sense of righteousness. "Two wrongs do not make a right—one death does not undo another. But what was justified was my father's challenge against Giza for his murder of Mkase. Mfalme did not have to kill Giza, and he would have let him go, even after what he had done, if he had only relented and acknowledged his guilt.

"Giza did so, but he was proud of his actions, and proceeded to attack my father in cold blood. Yet even at the end he could have been spared, but he refused...and as he lay dying, my father even offered immunity to you and your brothers, and forgiveness. But you also clung to your misguided beliefs...both you and your father chose your fates, despite the chances you had to escape them..."

Kuchinja's face was a mask of fury, but one splintered by cracks of doubt. Dhahabu's words were compelling and laden with just cause. But before he could utter a word, Njaa spoke up, his voice thick with emotion. "Brother...you always said Mfalme challenged Father without claiming any right to do so beyond revenge. But that was untrue, wasn't it?" Seated on his haunches beside Tauni, whose grievous wounds were being treated by Asumini, the golden tawny lion shook his head in realization. "Was it a lie, or were you simply not there to hear the issue of the challenge? Does it even matter...?"

The trance that seemed to have captured Kuchinja's will was broken by Njaa's bitter words. Turning on Dhahabu, he snarled, "You think to blunt my claws by sowing discord and poison, but you shall fail, Dhahabu! I know what is right, do not think to twist the truth to your own ends!"

The Lion King tensed, wary of the other's vicious claws, which slashed at the ground in pent-up rage. "I have no need to twist it...it cries out from the very earth."

"Then I shall silence it!" Kuchinja roared fearsomely and, gathering all his recovered strength, pounced, his hind legs slamming into the ground and propelling him toward Dhahabu...

But at that exact moment, two bulky silhouettes leaped from behind the nearest boulder and intervened, throwing themselves between the combatants. As the forms landed with paws splayed, each facing one of the massive lions, Dhahabu's eyes cleared from the glare of sunlight, and he stared in astonishment. The dark mahogany male he did not recognize...but the lioness facing him was his own sister, Taraji...

* * *

Gauging the reactions of the various eyes trained upon the conflict, Taraji found it an interesting exercise to estimate who was the most surprised by their sudden appearance, as well as to note the additional emotions she found there. In the gazes of Tembo and the lionesses of Kiburi, she discovered hope and pride. Kuchinja's brother, Njaa, wore a mask of relief mingled with worry as he stared over her shoulder at the welcome form of Jahili facing off with Kuchinja, who in turn locked his lone eye on his son in disgust, fury, and scorn. Dhahabu, however, was the lion upon whom Taraji kept her eyes fixed the longest.

He appeared so much stronger, wiser, and older than when she had last seen him—shoulders thrust forward in firm resolve, shrugging aside the weight of the suffering and loss she saw haunting his smoky gray eyes. The regality in his bearing stunned her...truly he had become the Lion King he had always been destined to be.

But it was clearly at the cost of yet another slice of his innocence, washed away by the tears he had shed for their father. Pain throbbed in Taraji's heart at what her brother had been through...without her there to stand by his side. She closed her eyes in guilt for a moment, then regarded him again. His muzzle was parted, his breath rasping from his throat as the lion peered at her searchingly, seeking out her motives in interfering.

The balanced tableau held for ten long minutes. Paws shifted, chests rose and fell. The silence was only interrupted by Jahili's soft growl at his father. Then at last Dhahabu found his voice and spoke quietly to his sister. "What are you doing here, Taraji?"

The moment was upon her, and she could not lose her resolve now. "What does it look like, brother? I am here to prevent further bloodshed."

Honey-gold locks of mane hung across his face, casting sharp shadows over his eyes as Dhahabu considered this. "Surely you know of Father's death by now. Kuchinja is to blame." His eyes blazed. "And he must be punished!"

Taraji's voice was compelling, beseeching. "I know, and I agree...but not this way. It is too dangerous, you are the king now and cannot risk your life so foolishly."

"Foolishly?" the young king gasped, nostrils flaring in indignation. How could his own sister dare to question his judgment when he was now the leader of the pride? Claws digging into the soil, Dhahabu snapped an angry reply. "So now my judgment is impaired? What is so wrong in seeking to chastise Kuchinja for what he has done? And yes, I am the king. That means I do have the right to take risks, rather than hide behind my throne and let my subjects do the fighting for me. And if I should not risk my life for something of this magnitude, when should I risk it?" His form trembled with emotion.

The cinnamon lioness was stunned by the power of his rhetoric, but she knew she had to continue. Kuchinja was too cunning...if her brother fought him, he would die, she could feel it. Thoughts racing, she took a deep breath, then glanced back at Jahili before speaking once more...

* * *

Lifting his brown-maned head to stare fixedly at his father, Jahili quailed at the visage he saw. If his last confrontation with the gray lion who had sired him had been frightening, what he saw now chilled him to the bone. There seemed to be no trace of emotion in Kuchinja save for dark, swirling, titanic rage. His expression was demonic, twisted by hatred.

Yet even through the fear that clutched at his heart, Jahili knew he could not give up on his father, not yet. He hated what the lion had done, had forced him to do, and would do all in his power to stop him. But deep within his soul, the mahogany lion still loved his father and was desperate to reach him, to break through his insanity and find the bond of blood they had once shared.

"End this." His words were husky, soft, yet underlain by an unwavering strength. "If you value your life, Father, leave now while you still have the chance, before Dhahabu delivers the same blow to you that Mfalme did to Grandfather."

Kuchinja laughed, a cold sound empty of mirth. He shook his head, as if truly regretful of his son's naiveté. "But that is exactly the point, Jahili...I am here to reclaim what is mine, to draw retribution for Giza's death from Dhahabu's tattered corpse so that none will ever dare to threaten our family again."

Jahili's ire rose, flanked by his hackles, as he gritted his teeth. "Dhahabu did nothing to you—and killing him will not bring Grandfather back. All this will lead to is suffering and death, on both sides. Why must you be so blind? Your actions only condemn us all to more and more atrocities!"

The gray lion chuckled. "And why should you care? You have never shown a single sign you have cared for your uncles. You have opposed me at every turn, consorted with the enemy, defied my will, and hated all I stood for. Why should it matter to you now whether I live or die?" He grinned fiendishly. "Besides, your fear is for naught...I am stronger than Dhahabu, it is not I who shall perish..."

The mahogany lion snarled. "You don't know that for sure! And why do I care? Because, no matter what you have done, you are my father and I love you!"

Kuchinja laughed again, this time in ridicule. "You still do not see how powerless love is? You have recklessly tied yourself to me when the wiser course would have been to cut yourself free, to depart these lands and never look back, but no, your precious conscience has made you stay." His lips curled into a smug, satisfied grin. "A mistake you will soon regret...allow me to show you what love will bring you..." The lion took a step toward Dhahabu and raised his voice so that all in the gorge could hear him...

* * *

Across the rocky floor of the cleft, Mwoga slowly arose from her crouch, eyes burning with a feverish fire as she gazed at the supple form of the cinnamon lioness only a few yards away. Memories of that fateful day in Kivuli flashed through her mind, of Taraji's determined pursuit of her mate Mjinga, her claws and teeth vicious even as a cub, drawing blood and tearing flesh to send hyennic howls into the misty air. It was weakness from the wounds the lioness cub had inflicted that had slowed Mjinga so that Mfalme could catch him.

And her own failure to kill Taraji had prompted a severe beating from Kuchinja...lifting a black-furred paw, the hyena could feel the scars on her cheek and throat, barely missing her jugular. Since that day she had always sworn she would have her own personal revenge—and now here Taraji was. Grown into a powerful lioness, yes, but distracted, alone, easy prey. And if she, Mwoga, could succeed in at last carrying out Kuchinja's orders, eliminating another of Mfalme's bloodline, the rewards would be...

Visions of hyena glory dancing before her eyes, Mwoga lost all rational thought. Her obsession outweighing common sense, she began a slow stalking along the outer fringe of the circle of watchers, darting behind boulders and into the shadows, her baleful yellow eyes fixed on Taraji as she counted on the element of surprise to give her the edge against the lioness. She failed to notice her son Ukware had fallen back, retreating from her side as he beheld the madness she intended—although he remained close enough to lend his aid if the need arose...

* * *

Licking her dry lips, Taraji struggled to find the right words to reach her brother. "Dhahabu, I would never question your fitness as king, or your right to risk your life for our pride. But surely you do not wish to be cut down so soon after claiming your throne. And yes, Kuchinja must not evade his fate—but there are other ways to lead him to it. Look around you, brother." The lioness turned her head to regard first Kufa's body, then Vita's, then the wounded forms of Tauni and Njaa. "Two of Kuchinja's brothers lie dead—"

"Three," Dhahabu interrupted, glancing at Mahiri.

"All right, three. Another is unconscious, and a fifth is badly wounded. Kuchinja is no longer a threat to Kiburi...what could he do, with no other allies to aid him?" The lioness's voice became more insistent. "Surely knowing he has failed in his bid for power will tear his heart to shreds more thoroughly than your claws ever could..."

Dhahabu's expression wavered as Taraji's logic began to make an impression. But at that moment, Kuchinja's voice rumbled around them, speaking words that drove icy blades of horror and despair into the lioness's heart.

"How dare you betray me, Jahili—you, my own flesh and blood! And all for the love of that ill-begotten sister of Dhahabu's!"

Stricken, Taraji turned to see Kuchinja's smug expression and Jahili standing helplessly behind him. All around her she could hear the cries of anger, disbelief, and denial from the lionesses of Kiburi. Then the whispering began, and as the lioness turned back she heard quite clearly the words "traitor" and "treason" uttered. Malkia spoke not a word, however. Instead her face was a ghastly white, eyes filled with disappointment and sorrow as she stared at her only daughter.

Dreading what she would see, Taraji turned back to her brother—and her legs trembled. Dhahabu's every facial muscle displayed an animal fury she had never beheld there before, etched into place as the creases and seams in a slab of adamantine rock. All of his fangs were exposed, gleaming with saliva, and his eyes were the shade of a roiling stormcloud, on the verge of releasing forks of lightning to sizzle to the earth.

"D-d-dhahabu..." she stammered, "this is not what it seems. Jahili and I—"

"Is it true?" Each word emerged as a lingering growl—she could barely recognize his voice.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, the lioness froze in an agony of indecision. If she denied it, Jahili would likely contradict her, and even if he did not, she would have lost any chance of reconciliation with him, something her heart yearned for despite her mind crying out not to trust the dark lion. But if she revealed the truth, there was no telling what Dhahabu would do to her, and to Jahili...

Shoulders sagging, she at last knew she could not hide it any longer. Brokenly, she replied, "Yes...it's true."

A roar burst from Dhahabu's throat, followed by the cracking of rock. When she dared to raise her eyes, Taraji was stunned to see the floor of the gorge all around the lion was cleaved and shattered by intersecting splits and furrows. Muscles surging, the Lion King lifted one quivering paw, its claws still unsheathed, and began to move toward her. "How...how could you...the son of Kuchinja, the murderer of our brother, our father! You defile their memories, Taraji...their spirits cry out for justice, and what do you do? You lift your tail for one of the Wahamiji! I don't understand you, I don't know you..."

Weeping openly now, Taraji shook her head violently. "No, it wasn't like that, it wasn't like that at all! I didn't even know who he was until today, and he—he's not like his father! Why do you think he is here with me, attempting to stop this terrible war? He is as against violence and death as I am! Please believe me, Dhahabu! I love him, and he loves me!" There, she had said it, she had admitted the truth in her heart, for good or for ill...

Dhahabu's eyes bulged. "I cannot believe anything you say anymore, Taraji...for all I know, you only came here with him to distract me, to lull me into a false sense of security so that Kuchinja could triumph and you could run away to be with your precious mate!"

Taraji stood aghast. "How could you think such a thing! This is not your true heart speaking, Dhahabu...you are letting Kuchinja direct your thinking!" Her grief and fear were transforming now into determination and defiance. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed both Malkia and Mahiri edging closer to her brother, but from their tense, infuriated expressions, they were not coming to support Dhahabu, but to rebuke him.

Heartened, she cried, "Don't you see? This is what Kuchinja wants! He wants you to be so caught up in your wrath at what I have done that you forget about him, the battle, your search for justice, all of it! If he triumphs, it is because you let him, by playing into his paws—even now you give him the chance to escape, or to strike back. You must not let my love for this good lion, who could not help where he was born, blind you to the truth! It is clear Kuchinja wishes you enraged with me—do you really wish to do what _he_ wants?"

For once Dhahabu had no words to say. Thunderstruck by the ramifications of her tirade, the young king slowly fell back a pace, paw lowering, some of the anger draining from his face as the adrenaline cleared from his mind and reason reasserted itself in his thinking. Shakily glancing to the side, he met the cold, reprimanding gazes of his mother and his mate.

In Malkia's golden eyes he could sense the thought that Mfalme would never have lost control of his temper in such a manner. In Mahiri's emerald orbs he saw shimmering the reminder that he had won his mate by proving he was not like other lions, pugnacious and bloodthirsty. Shuddering with guilt and shame, he swallowed with difficulty and turned back toward Taraji, fangs no longer bared...

* * *

Flinching with each of Dhahabu's cruel and vindictive words, Jahili could barely restrain his own anger, but he knew to interfere would be tantamount to suicide, considering the Lion King's blatant contempt for him, and his desire to snatch the life from his throat. Instead, once he could stand to hear no more of the golden lion's twisted logic, the mahogany lion turned and vented his temper on the one responsible.

The amused look on Kuchinja's face fired the fury in Jahili's veins all the more. Snarling, the lion maneuvered himself between his father and Taraji. "You think you've won now...but you just made a big mistake."

"Have I?" Kuchinja pouted in false sorrow. "I think not. Soon you will be killed, or driven out, and I shall have my chance to be rid of Dhahabu once and for all. I may even take your dear Taraji in the bargain—after I gift her with my considerable charms, of course..." A lustful grin curled at the corners of his mouth.

A savage roar sounded from Jahili, mingling with Dhahabu's roar, but Kuchinja only smirked and paced around his son, as if he were not even there. "Come now, Jahili, enough with the pitiful threats...you will never carry through, you love me, remember?" The sarcasm was cloying.

But as Kuchinja turned away and gathered his powerful haunches to spring toward Dhahabu, he neglected to see the intense hatred in Jahili's eyes, dwarfing every other emotion he felt towards his father...

* * *

Dhahabu was about to offer words of apology when his eyes tracked movement beyond his sister. Suddenly, before he could act, the muscled gray form of Kuchinja was barreling towards him, single eye blazing with a fanatic zeal. But then, even quicker came the lithe mahogany form of his son—Jahili, was it?—from the side. The two lions crashed together, and as Kuchinja cried out in surprise and tumbled across the ground, Jahili stayed with him, claws and fangs ripping and tearing, opening new wounds with a ferocity and instinctive bloodlust that stunned the young king.

Whirling, Taraji spied father and son locked in vicious combat and gasped in horror. "Jahili!" She too began moving, running toward the rising dustcloud, and all at once it was like that day in Kivuli, when he had felt all was shifting in slow motion, as he struggled to get up to speed and pursue her, and his sister entered the swirling dust, the same as she once had when Sulubu had fallen beneath the hyenas in the murky elephant graveyard.

And then, as if his thoughts had summoned her, Mwoga hurtled from behind an outcrop and sprang atop Taraji's surging shoulders just as she entered the dustcloud. Dhahabu cried out in warning, too late—always too late, were his reflexes that dulled by the fighting?

A few heartbeats later Ukware also leapt from hiding and joined his mother in accosting the cinnamon lioness, who had lost her footing and now crumpled to the ground. In seconds the hyenas were swarming over her, and her writhing form rolled futilely to cast them off as Taraji's jaws parted and her fangs bit deeply into the grayish-brown pelts.

Sliding to a stop, Dhahabu tried to follow the course of the fight, his head jerking in one direction after another, but it was so fast and furious he could distinguish little but hazy silhouettes. He dared not act, for fear of hurting Taraji, and no matter how disgusted he remained by her love for Jahili, he wished for nothing to happen to her. Beyond her, he could barely make out the wrestling bodies of Kuchinja and Jahili, but this battle was not one he was inclined to prevent. Perhaps they would do him a favor and kill each other.

Yet a twinge of doubt had seeded itself in his brain—if he had observed correctly, Kuchinja had been about to leap on him when Jahili had intervened...saving him. Why would he do this if he were anything like his father?

But in any case he could do nothing for any of them until a solution presented itself. As Dhahabu rapidly glanced at Tembo and the lionesses of Kiburi, he saw the same thought was mirrored on every countenance. Turning back, the Lion King could only watch in a helpless paralysis, waiting for the moment when he could be of use, and put a stop to this endless violence once and for all.

* * *

Taraji's mind seethed with reckless fury and fiery rage as she tumbled across the dusty ground, borne to the earth by Mwoga and her worthless son Ukware. Jahili, the lion she loved, was locked in deadly combat with his father, yet she could do nothing to help him because of the interference of these mangy, disreputable, murdering hyenas! The only consolation she could take from this was that at last, after so long, she would finally have revenge for Sulubu's death.

The smug smirk on Mwoga's muzzle as she set to work slashing her brother's unprotected belly still haunted her dreams, filling Taraji with an unfamiliar helplessness and gifting her with hours of sweat-soaked torture in the den. Nightmares of Mwoga's merciless attack had kept her mind broken and perpetually horrified in the weeks following Sulubu's sacrifice...only the kind and understanding words of Guyana, Dhahabu's example, and her father's teachings had helped her to recover. And now here Mwoga was once more, still bloodthirsty, still seeking revenge.

But she, Taraji, would return the favor. Forgetting entirely her warnings to the young Lion King not to seek vengeance lest he be killed, the cinnamon lioness only had one thought in mind now and nothing could shake it from her.

Vicious, determined, and bold, Taraji hurled her muscled body faster across the ground so that its full weight came down with crushing force on Mwoga. The hyena hastily released her hold and scrambled away, but in seconds she was on her paws and leaping back into the fray. But Taraji's few moments of freedom had allowed her to roll upright as well, so that Mwoga's attack was met by slashing leonine claws. Ukware still clung to her back, jaws fastened to her neck, but the lioness's gyrations as she began to twist and whirl across the gorge floor dislodged his paws, and he shifted and slid uncontrollably on her back.

Yowling in pain, Taraji stumbled as Ukware ground his teeth deeper to hold on, and Mwoga dashed toward the lioness to take advantage of this opening. But her distraction was only momentary. Thinking only on instinct, the lioness whipped around, presenting her backside to the hyena instead of her face—and, unable to stop, Mwoga's descending teeth closed on her own son's posterior.

Ukware howled in agony, which naturally caused him to sail through the air and crash to the ground as his only means of purchase vanished with his grip. Mwoga, meanwhile, was unable to halt her momentum and slid beneath Taraji's belly. Grinning in spite of herself, the lioness waited for the next assault.

It was not long in coming. Ukware, jaw dripping with her blood and limping on a bruised leg, nevertheless stalked her, shooting a venomous glare in her direction, but when he leaped at last, she was ready for him. One paw darted out, slamming into his shoulder and hurling him away again—this time to crash into the side of a residual boulder nearby. With a groan the hyena collapsed to the ground, sinking into unconsciousness.

But Taraji had only an instant to revel in her victory before Mwoga, who had been stealthily approaching her from behind, pounced, taking her son's place upon the lioness's back and resuming the cruel gnawing of the wound on her neck. Humping her shoulders, Taraji tried to shake the hyena loose, while reaching back with one paw to attempt to slash her opponent's face, or anything that would make her fall from her perch.

Finally the lioness pretended to collapse, catching Mwoga off guard. In moments they were both wrapped in each other's limbs, rolling through the dust as they each bit and tore flesh until both were soaked in blood. Soon a tangy copper scent was mixed with the dry choking swirls of disturbed dirt, foreshadowing the joining of life with earth that was soon to come...

* * *

Ebon mane smeared with crimson liquid and gray pelt stiff with dust, Kuchinja sank his fangs into Jahili's shoulder, perilously close to the throbbing jugular that sustained his life, but his son returned the attack with equal ferocity, ripping open wounds that sprayed out his father's life-essence to make the ground beneath them even more slippery than before.

Kuchinja was stunned, and for a moment it penetrated to his understanding that his son truly loved Taraji with an intensity that made him stronger and more ruthless than he had ever been in his life...and he was now a worthy adversary, and perhaps even a superior one. Shaking his head at this impossible thought, Kuchinja bore down with his full weight, slamming Jahili's head back against the ground. A massive roar burst from his son's throat, nearly deafening at this close range.

Suddenly Jahili's hind legs thrust up, forcing his father's apart and granting him access to his tender underbelly. Jahili glared upward, his expression one of grim satisfaction and almost sadistic pleasure as he buried his claws in Kuchinja's abdomen and shredded the sensitive flesh.

Rearing up and thrashing wildly, the powerful lion could not stop the tears from soaking his cheek-fur. Shoving sideways, Jahili sent him tumbling across the gorge floor, which was slanting at an angle toward a shallow crevasse. Pursuing, the mahogany lion leaped atop him and clawed at his chest as they both fell over the rim. Kuchinja attempted to cling to the side, but his mass worked against him, and he soon lost his hold. But as he fell, he clutched at Jahili.

Before the younger lion could react, both were tumbling downwards—and Kuchinja remained on top, his body crushing Jahili against the rocky slope. By the time they landed at the bottom of the crevasse, Jahili was bruised and battered, with numerous wounds dotting his pelt.

Slowly Kuchinja shuddered to his paws, and gazed down soullessly at his son. Within the shadows of the crevasse, and against the twilit sky, the lion's lone eye burned with a towering anger that clearly sent a shiver of fear down Jahili's spine. Once he judged that his son had been claimed by his terror, Kuchinja sprang into action, pouncing toward the prone form.

But Jahili was not as incapacitated as he seemed, and met the rush with a quick, if stiff, defense, paws thrusting up to keep him at bay. In seconds the two were once more at odds, claws digging into chests soon streaming with blood. Above, gathering stormclouds continued to cast darkness across the battle scene to match the emotions surging in both fierce and unforgiving hearts...

* * *

Heart still pounding, adrenaline still rushing through his veins to stimulate his bulky muscles, Dhahabu shifted nervously from one paw to another, eyes fixed on the battle unfolding before him. Each blow by the hyenas prompted a hiss of breath; each slash and bite his sister delivered elicited cries of excited affirmation from the young king.

His claws gripped the ground as he kept track of the furious combat, anxious to find the moment when he could aid Taraji and eliminate Mwoga forever. A fearsome grin appeared as Ukware was tossed aside to slam into the boulder, taking him out of the fight. But then, as the lioness and her adversary intensified their struggle, Dhahabu's attention was drawn by deep, ominous roars.

Turning, the golden lion spied Jahili and Kuchinja tumbling across the ground into a narrow crevasse, and he winced visibly at the thick trails of blood in the soil from where they had lain. The sheer viciousness of their attacks far outmatched even Taraji's ferocity, and this coupled with the fact that it was father and son locked in such a deadly test of will and strength only increased Dhahabu's shock.

Despite his distrust of Jahili, he could not help but feel a touch of horror at what he was witnessing...that such hatred could exist within a family chilled the lion's soul. However he might feel about Jahili, no lion deserved to be denied the love of his father.

As Dhahabu continued to watch Jahili and Kuchinja claw and slash at each other's chests within the crevasse, the soft pattering of feet in the dust reached his ears, followed by an indignant, piping voice. "Aren't ya gonna do somethin'? I thought ya was de king!"

Eyes wide at this rude and thoughtless conduct, the lion turned—and blinked. Standing at his feet was the tiny form of a meerkat, staring upward in consternation as he propped one fist on his hip.

Dhahabu returned the stare, distrust and inquiry mixed in his expression. "Who are you, and why do you presume to undermine my authority?" The lion's voice was deceptively soft.

Despite his threatening posture, the meerkat did not seem frightened of the king. "My name is Cheko, an' I don't see ya usin' dat authority! Dey could die out dere, an' ya just standin' dere!" His little jaw clenched.

The lion would have laughed at this comical image if the situation had not been so dire and if he had not been on the verge of losing his temper entirely. Trying to calm his breathing, Dhahabu snapped, "And what would you know about the pressures of authority? I fully intend to do something, but if I choose wrong, and act without thinking, I could end up hurting my own sister!" A pained look crossed his face.

Cheko raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Maybe, but ya can't wait too long! An' what about Jahili? I bet dat ya could pin dat Kuchinja without hurtin' his son."

Dhahabu snorted contemptuously to hide his growing doubts. "And why should I care about him? Taraji would be better off without him."

The meerkat's eyes flashed with a fire greater than his strength or size. He stabbed a finger toward Dhahabu's distant muzzle. "Dat ain't true, dat ain't even close t' de truth! An' ya don't even know him...I may've just met de guy today, but I ain't never wrong when it comes t' first impressions. Jahili has more courage an' honesty den any lion I know, an' he's got a heart dat has more love an' loyalty den ya could imagine!" Cheko quivered with his righteous ire, his voice rising louder and higher in his vehement rebuke.

For several minutes it was all the Lion King could do to meet his accuser's gaze. When he spoke, some of the anger had faded. "But what proof do you have this is so? And how can I believe you when you are his friend, and a stranger to me? I can't chance my sister's heart...or life." Shaking his head, Dhahabu shifted his stance as he returned to observing worriedly Taraji's combat with Mwoga.

But Cheko would not be deterred. Even as the lion struggled internally, the words of praise for and pride in Jahili ringing in his ears in a manner that encouraged a sense of guilt for doubting him, the meerkat scampered around in front of his paws again. "Well it may be true dat I can't do anythin' t' show ya I'm tellin' ya de truth, but why would a stranger lie t' ya? An' if ya really want to, after dis is all over ya can check with my colony, dey'll tell ya I never lie."

Nodding firmly, Cheko glanced toward the fighting lions and ducked instinctively as Kuchinja swiped at Jahili's cheek, sending a spray of blood into the air. He had to shout over the roars as he continued. "As t' how I know Jahili ain't a bad guy...listen t' me. He told yer sister who he was, de whole story, predator an' prey. He didn't have t' do dat. He could've kept it secret. An' when he thought Taraji didn't love him anymore, he still wanted t' help ya an' stop his father!"

He paused to let that sink in. Dhahabu's eyes widened, and he shook his head in disbelief. "No, that's not possible..." His protest died in his throat as he recalled once more how Jahili had prevented Kuchinja from attacking him. The lion's mind whirled.

Cheko rolled his eyes. "Of course it's possible! Jahili believes in doin' what's right. An' he truly loves yer sister. If ya don't believe dat, den hear dis: when she first found out who he was an' rejected him, he was all set t' kill himself, an' he would've if I hadn't happened along." The meerkat crossed his arms with an air of finality, as if daring the lion to contradict him.

But Dhahabu would do nothing of the kind...horror, shock, confusion, and hesitation warred on his countenance. Once more he tried to speak, but his throat locked. He wished fervently to deny the validity of Cheko's revelation, but as he fixed his gray orbs upon the meerkat, Dhahabu could see the truth shining in his gaze...the conviction he found there staggered him. Although there was no logical reason to believe, he was not going by logic, but emotion...

Closing his eyes, the Lion King breathed deeply, trying to block out the scent of blood and death that filled the gorge, and focused. Jahili was Kuchinja's son...how could good come from such evil? Yet, how could Taraji so misjudge this young lion as to love him if he were truly unworthy of trust?

Searching for answers, Dhahabu suddenly recalled the words Adhimu had shared with him upon his departure from Kusini, words of great import..._However much you may wish it, you are not your father. No lion can be another. What you will be is your own choice..._ The lion's eyes popped open. Was it possible? Had Jahili chosen not to be his father, despite the instinct to follow in Kuchinja's pawprints? Locking his eyes on the crevasse, the golden lion again took in the unbridled savagery of Jahili's attacks...this could not be an act. The mahogany lion clearly would do anything to save Taraji and blunt his father's plans.

Contemplating the ruined relationship between father and son, Dhahabu was reminded of Tembo and Damu. Turning to stare at the rigid form of the elephant across the gorge, he recalled Mfalme's cautious warning from his cubhood..._The Circle of Life turns for all, but not every animal can discern where he will be carried, or understand the purpose of the journey..._ If Cheko were correct, and Taraji had not been misled, then Jahili had certainly not been carried where he had expected—but then neither had he, Dhahabu. Was he now to be like Damu, distrusting, hateful, suspicious? Would his prejudice utterly consume the love and acceptance Jahili had found on his journey and consign him to the same fate as his father?

And what of his own journey? Had he learned nothing from his life...from Mahiri's belief in his gentle, noble spirit? From Sulubu's sacrifice so he could be a great king? Would a king rule well by refusing to admit he was wrong? Groaning, Dhahabu tried to latch onto something stable in the maelstrom of self-doubt. His father had been wrong to be proud of him...

And then, as these thoughts churned in his mind, Mfalme's wise voice again echoed in the vaults of his memory, for a moment drowning out the noise of battle: _You must follow your heart...it has never failed you before..._

His heart. It thudded now with one thought. Jahili had wanted to die rather than live without Taraji.

Two glistening tears trickled down Dhahabu's cheeks.

A snarl from Kuchinja broke the Lion King from his reverie. What had seemed hours was in fact minutes, as Dhahabu squared his shoulders and glanced from one dust-choked conflict to the other. Then he returned his attention to Cheko, who was watching him intently, a mixture of rapt, penetrating understanding and impatient eagerness on his small features. "Cheko...you've given me a lot to think about. I can't promise anything yet, but for now I'll reserve judgment on Jahili. But that suggests he's still alive to be judged. So I'd better ensure that's the case."

He chuckled at the meerkat's sudden whoop and leap in the air with one fist raised. As the lion turned, he spied Mahiri sitting nearby, her expression radiant and approving. Feeling vindicated in his choice, Dhahabu finished his movement and began to sidle unobtrusively toward the crevasse...still keeping Taraji in sight if she needed help, but concentrating now on being ready to come to Jahili's aid if the situation demanded it...

* * *

Fangs bared, Taraji lunged at Mwoga's arching neck, shoving her forcefully against a patch of sharp rocks so that the hyena's back ground painfully against them. Struggling, the smaller animal scratched and batted at the lioness's chest and shoulders, vainly attempting to keep her away. But she was tiring from the rapid pace of battle, and the strain of having to fend off the lioness's blows without any assistance was clearly taking its toll. Desperate, Mwoga lashed out at Taraji's cheek, and when the lioness flinched backward, the hyena darted in and closed her jaws over the outstretched paw.

As blood spurted and muscles tore, Taraji lost her grip and was dislodged. Wasting no time, Mwoga squirmed and crawled until she escaped the embrace and stumbled away. What she would do she had no idea...there was nowhere to go, and her pride would not let her flee from Taraji, especially without her revenge complete. Instead she prepared to make a stand with another boulder at her back—but before she was even half a dozen paces away, something gripped one hind leg and jerked her to a halt.

Fearfully Mwoga gazed over her shoulder and blanched. Taraji stood just behind her, her wounded paw somehow clenched around the hyena's foot to check any further progress. The look of victory and superiority in her cold blue eyes sent a realization stabbing through the hyena...a realization that death had come for her. She tried to twist free at once, but Taraji might as well have been stone. Gnashing her teeth, Mwoga clawed and pawed at the ground, but her strength finally gave out, and she collapsed. She sensed rather than saw the lioness's body looming over her, the shadow flowing across her pelt.

And then Taraji's full weight pinned her in place. Growling, she wrenched the hyena's head up so that she could not avoid her unwavering orbs. Then, softly, she whispered in her ear, "Say hello to your mate and your sister for me, coward...that is your name, and that is what you have proven yourself to be by your actions." And then Taraji casually drew her claws across Mwoga's jugular and windpipe. As blood flooded her throat and she began to choke and suffocate, the cinnamon lioness tightened her grip, gradually crushing her trachea.

When the hyena was only a corpse, still warm and sodden with rich scarlet fluid, Taraji mustered all her dignity and stamina and left her behind like a discarded slab of disease-ridden meat. To one side, and several yards ahead of her, she could see Dhahabu almost out of her line of vision, moving with a deliberate pace. But Taraji's full attention was on what appeared to be her brother's destination as well as her own—the crevasse and the compassionate lion whom she must now save from the monster that dared threaten his precious life...

* * *

Every tendon and sinew crying out for release and the blessed oblivion of death, Jahili yet refused to relent, somehow finding a well of strength, drawing it from the love of Taraji that sustained him. Muscles rigid, he drove Kuchinja's body away, increasing the pressure with every moment, until his father was unable to force him downwards. Snapping and snarling, the gray lion moved against his will, even as he attempted to strike again.

Then, when Jahili had enough room to maneuver, the mahogany lion raised his hind legs and slammed them forcefully into Kuchinja's underbelly. Caught off guard, the massive lion spilled onto the cracked ground, freeing his son. As quickly as he could manage, Jahili rose to his paws and limped to the side of the crevasse, climbing toward safety.

But just as he reached the lip, he could hear his father's ragged breathing below him, and then a humongous paw looped over his shoulder and began to drag him downwards. Questing with his own paws, Jahili fought gravity and the power of Kuchinja's maniacal will, and for several long moments his life hung in the balance. But ultimately gravity became his ally, as Kuchinja lost his footing and slipped down the slope, allowing the younger lion to crawl to level ground.

Not daring to rest despite his weariness, Jahili staggered back toward the others, weaving from side to side, his forequarters stained a vivid crimson. Yet still he endured, as his steps slowed and faltered...he could see Taraji like a spirit risen from a blood-drenched field where once an ancient pride war of distant days had been fought...but she seemed so far away...and then he felt the sudden pressure on his shoulders, driving him down.

His weakened knees gave way, and Jahili was abruptly spread on his belly once again, his father's great body atop him, pinning him down in a cruel mirror image of Mwoga's last moments in Taraji's grasp. Unable even to struggle, the young lion wept softly, barely hearing the words of contempt and amusement. "Ah, son...at last you see it now, at the end...your principles could never be stronger than my vision of conquest."

Against the roiling clouds in the sky, Kuchinja suddenly became a stark silhouette as lightning flickered behind him, bathing the heavens with an azure glow. "You could never hope to gain anything unless you joined me. And without me, you are nothing." He lifted one paw to strike the killing blow—and suddenly the terrible weight was wrenched free! Jahili, whose eyes had been squeezed shut, suddenly blinked and watched as his father was hurled away, sent flying by an unexpected tackle from Taraji!

The world rotated endlessly around Kuchinja, even after he came to rest. Shaking his head to clear it of the ringing, he stared in consternation at Taraji as the cinnamon lioness paced back to Jahili's side and stood before him, blocking the way. Growling, his throat producing a sound far uglier than any imagined, Kuchinja silently berated himself for his inattention to his surroundings as he began to rise. But before he could begin stalking toward Taraji to chastise her for her countless disruptions of his schemes, a massive weight slammed into his side, and once again the gray lion found himself sprawled in the dirt.

But this time, when he looked up, he stiffened in fearful recognition of the truth...that this time he was trapped, too gravely wounded to escape his fate. For, perched atop his now-vermilion chest and underbelly, gray eyes cold and dancing with the promise of a final resolution, was Dhahabu, the Lion King...

* * *

Groggy and with a throbbing headache, Ukware slowly regained consciousness, feeling as if he were swimming through a storm-tossed sea, but he was stubborn and refused to be controlled by his physical limitations. Cracking his eyes open, the hyena managed to rise halfway and peered through the gloomy twilight. Finally, after his eyes adjusted, he could see his mother's lifeless body lying several yards away.

His brain, though still dazed and confused, burst into the fires of rage and seethed with thoughts of revenge...but as he turned his eyes over the rest of the battlefield, Ukware saw to his despair and disgust that Kuchinja appeared to be the only one left with any will to fight—and he was pinned by Dhahabu, with the other lions ringing him all about.

Reining in his ire, the hyena tried to calm his breathing and flicked his eyes from Taraji to Jahili, who was obviously on the verge of fainting. Reluctantly, he growled softly and acknowledged the truth of what he saw, even though it galled him...they had lost. Kuchinja was alone now and at the mercy of the Lion King. He would not survive longer than a few minutes.

And without Mwoga or any of the Wahamiji, except the weary and wounded Njaa, he could not triumph, could not gain the power he deserved or even the vengeance he craved. Once before he had considered leaving Kuchinja's service...now it was a foregone conclusion, since there would soon be no one for him to serve.

But all eyes were on the fatal denouement that was rapidly approaching...no one bothered to spare a glance toward him. Teeth clenched in a mixture of contempt, hatred, and mad desire, Ukware heaved himself to his paws and began padding south, away from the battle scene. He would escape, he would live to fight another day. The glory due to hyenas may have been denied him, but there would always be other chances to take, other plans to concoct.

No one cared about him, no one would realize he was gone until it was too late. He would depart this wretched gorge and sojourn alone until he could track down the nearest hyena clan. Mwoga had spurned the clans, setting her sights on a higher goal unimpeded by sniveling paw-lickers and whining dullards with no imagination...but such a place was the only safe haven for him now.

Staggering and weaving, the blood still soaking his temple, the hyena reached the first turn in the gorge, where the cleft angled out of sight of the battle. Glancing back over his shoulder, Ukware spat in the general direction of the lions and passed from view, tears of grief soaking his fur. Mwoga was dead, but he would not let her death remain unpunished. He would bide his time, but one day he or one of his descendants would find the way to topple the lions from their thrones and reclaim the greatness that was their destiny.

How or when, he did not know...but it would happen, the lands would be theirs to plunder and scour until all acknowledged their supremacy, and all animals existed at their sufferance...his dark gaze burned with the oath as he slunk into the shadows...

* * *

Gasping weakly, the gray lion knew without even seeing his body that he had bruised or broken several ribs when he had been thrown to the ground—he could not move without spasms of anguish racking his frame. But he could not show this to Dhahabu. Managing a cold, defiant stare, he met the Lion King's gaze. "So...you finally have me exactly where you want me. Why don't you gloat now, Dhahabu? Or would you rather get it over with and tear the life from my heart while it still beats? Justice be done!"

His voice was a harsh whisper, somehow made all the more menacing and vile by its husky death rattle and scathing sarcasm. "Yet as you do, know that your thirst for revenge taints you, and collapses the image of goodwill and forgiveness you wish to project!" Kuchinja proclaimed this vehemently, as if daring the young king to take the bait and be drawn into another pointless argument.

But the passage of time had distanced Dhahabu, allowed him to regain control of his emotions. Rather than reply, he simply perched atop the son of Giza and regarded him fixedly, until even Kuchinja had to feel a sense of growing unease and trepidation. The entire gorge, shrouded by encroaching night as the sun lost its battle with the endless march of the hours and the broiling stormclouds, was shockingly silent as all watched and waited.

When Dhahabu had at last gathered his thoughts and had the opportunity to remind himself of Mfalme's teachings, the young lion inclined his head to the side and replied in a voice laced with equal parts pity and rejection. "If I kill you now, it is not out of rage or revenge, but as you said yourself, out of justice. Killing you will not restore my father to me, but it will keep you from ever ruining the peace and prosperity of my lands. You are a disease far easier to prevent than to cure."

The golden lion looked up and glanced around the gorge, reminded of Taraji's words to him a short while earlier. He eyed Njaa, then Jahili, before shaking his head. "Look around you...your brothers lie dead, all but two, and the only one who could aid you will not, because he sees the wrongs you have perpetuated. Your own son has abandoned you. You are alone, as the defiled are." A grim smile appeared on his muzzle. "If I did not wish to banish your evil from Kiburi, I would let you live, for that is the worst punishment you can face. Death would be mercy for you, a blessing..."

Kuchinja wanted desperately to find some rebuttal for Dhahabu's words...but somehow, staring up at him, he could not. Because no matter how much he fought to deny it, it was true. Shifting his eye, he could just see Njaa, expression mournful but determined...torn by wishing to aid his brother, yet knowing now that it was useless, and that the cause he had believed in had all been based on a lie in any case.

Glancing to the other side, he could see Taraji standing over Jahili as the mahogany lion lay prone...beneath the tangled locks of brown mane, his son's unwavering eyes burned with painfully naked emotion—hatred, disappointment, horror, grief, but most of all a loneliness so pervasive it penetrated to Kuchinja's heart.

At once he wondered how long that emotion had been in Jahili's eyes...how long had he failed to see it? All of his life, he suddenly feared. Blinded as much by his contempt for Jahili's pacifistic ways as by his missing eye, he had never acknowledged the younger lion's deep need to be loved, to belong.

And why was that? The gray lion's breath rasped in his throat as, in a moment of clarity and sanity he had long avoided because of the pain it would bring, a revelation burst upon him. He had always disparaged love as useless...because his own father had rejected it and remained unemotional despite Kuchinja's own love for him. And now, by denying it to Jahili, he was repeating history.

So focused had he been on reclaiming his heritage, even when that heritage had turned out to be derived from Giza's mendacity, that he had let nothing stand in his way...not even the unconditional love Jahili possessed, which had somehow survived every cruelty and insult, only caving when his own love for Taraji was threatened. All of this time, his truest friend and most devoted family member had been his son, and he did not realize it until now...when it was too late.

At last Kuchinja's gaze turned to Mahiri, who sat not far from Njaa, watching in stunned shock. She had once told him he would have an empty life, would drive away everyone who loved him and could spare him pain, and her prediction had come true. She was even here to witness it, as she had hoped...

Dhahabu was watching him closely, his massive body a silhouette against the streaks of lightning in the nubilous sky. Kuchinja shuddered, remembering what he had said had truly taken place between his father and Mkase...he still knew not whether to believe it, but he admitted to himself that it sounded like the Giza he remembered. Sighing, he nodded slowly...although he still hated Dhahabu for ruling the lands that should have been his, the circumstances were now different.

"You are right, Dhahabu...to live alone, without kingdom or subjects or family, would be worse than death. But death is what I crave, now that I have lost. For you this will bring justice to your brother and father...to me it will bring peace, as I will not have to live as a failure or see my kingdom ruled by another."

He could see the young king doubted his sincerity, and Kuchinja did not blame him. He himself could hardly believe he was giving in so easily, and part of him was scheming for some final treachery. But the rest of the gray lion's heart was weary of fighting...he knew he would die anyway of his wounds, but if he died now by Dhahabu's paw, he would die with at least some dignity left. And perhaps that would be a point in his favor when he came before Aiheu and the Kings for judgment.

Glancing back at Njaa, Kuchinja raised his voice as well as he was able. "Njaa...brother...I relinquish Kiburi to you. It is now yours to dispense with as you please." Before the startled golden tawny lion could react, Kuchinja turned his attention to Jahili. "And you, Jahili...I'm sorry I'm not the father you wanted. The father you deserve." Nerving himself, he then closed his eye and waited. "Do it now, Dhahabu...end it quickly."

There was no fierceness to it when it came, no relishing in the moment, no prolonging of the pain and suffering as there would have been if he had been the one ending Dhahabu's life. Instead the Lion King lowered his head and parted his jaws, setting his fangs against Kuchinja's flesh on either side of the jugular. "It ends here...no more vengeance, no more death, no more evil. May the lands be free of this pall of violence, and shine unmarred beneath the shelter of the Kings." And with those words, Dhahabu closed his jaws, his teeth piercing deep and tearing the gray lion's throat open. Kuchinja gasped, a burbling, liquid sound, and then fell silent as his straining chest sank into stillness. The blood flow became sluggish, then began to peter out.

And so the eldest son of Giza met his end.

* * *

Letting out a shaky breath, Dhahabu slowly climbed off of Kuchinja's body and turned toward the frozen form of Njaa, feeling as if every muscle within him had been stretched and torn...every movement seemed to produce another new pain. Bruised and battered and bleeding, he nevertheless felt a great relief.

At least he was still alive.

Padding heavily across the beaten earth, he lifted his maned head, the honey-gold hair streaked with blood and smeared with dirt, to see Njaa bowing his own head in respect, shoulders hunching forward as if he were about to fall on his knees. "Dhahabu...I am no king. I would have no business ruling Kiburi. And I am not my brother. While I admit I did desire your lands, I never wanted more bloodshed than was necessary. And now...knowing what I do of your grandfather, my family does not deserve the kingship here. So I relinquish Kiburi to you...you have earned it."

He paused, then glanced back at the unconscious Tauni. "All I ask in return is one boon...that you grant a pardon to my brother and I, and to Jahili, and grant us leave to depart in peace. I know that may be asking too much, but we never truly did you harm, or wished to...and Jahili, he has shown more than once this day that his loyalty is to your sister, and that he would give his life to protect her...and you."

For a long time Dhahabu only stared at the golden tawny lion, gray eyes fixed on his emerald ones, his thoughts troubled. It was indeed a great thing to ask...but Cheko's words still filled his mind, telling him to believe, to judge by the actions Jahili had taken and not by his bloodline. His father would wish him to be forgiving, as would Mahiri and Asumini. The latter lioness sat close by Njaa, a look of hope mixed with worry on her features. She clearly wanted this to come to pass.

His heart was torn, wanting to relent but unsure as to the consequences. Finally, still undecided, he turned to face the rest of the pride that gathered there around him. He glanced at Taraji, could see the tears of sorrow in her eyes as she gazed at the wounded Jahili, her stance suggesting one long separated from that which gave her life, who would never leave it again.

He sighed. "I have given your words much thought, Njaa, but this decision is one that is greater than I. Others will be affected, and I must heed their counsel as well." Dhahabu turned his gaze to the lionesses and Tembo, silent witnesses to the great struggle that had been waged. "What is your advice, all of you? Shall these three be pardoned?"

Silence reigned at first, as lionesses regarded one another and Tembo frowned thoughtfully. Then at last one pride member stepped forward, an aging lioness Dhahabu recognized as Simana. "I remember Njaa when he was a young adolescent, when Giza still ruled...he was never like his father, he tried to do right and to take care of the pride. And...when Giza wished him to choose a mate, he demanded that I take on that responsibility. I of course did not wish to do so against my will...but Njaa..."

She turned to the golden tawny lion and smiled softly. "He refused it as well...he insisted his mate be a lioness who truly loved him. Giza was furious of course, but he dared not show his anger before the others, so he officially sanctioned his son's decision. Ever since then, I have known Njaa was a moral lion...and if he promises never to bring harm to Kiburi again, and vouches for Tauni, then I believe him."

Njaa stared at Simana as if seeing her for the first time, recognizing in her the lioness he had once known. His eyes shone, and he ducked his head in embarrassment. Beside him, Asumini regarded him with new respect in her eyes. Meanwhile, the other lionesses and Tembo were softly murmuring their assent, but Dhahabu was troubled. "And what of Jahili?"

An even longer silence ensued. It was Taraji who first broke it, with a shuddering sigh. "Brother...it is as I said. I love him...I know he is not Kuchinja. I cannot deny him anymore. If that seals my fate, and I must be exiled with him...so be it."

The Lion King's jaw dropped, and he tried to stammer a response but nothing would come out. So sure he had been a short while earlier—but the battle between father and son, and Cheko's words, had altered that. And no matter what occurred, he would never wish to drive Taraji away...

Before he could reply, Simana again spoke, her voice firm but sympathetic. "I have known Taraji all her life. She is a very level-headed and intelligent lioness. She could not be deceived as to Jahili's true nature. I say she be allowed to choose whomever she wishes as her mate, and that Jahili too be spared...and I dare any lioness here to object, when all can see how truly devoted she is." As the lioness glared around her, her pridemates had the grace to look apologetic and solemn. Each gazed at Taraji as she stood over the weary, nearly unconscious form of Kuchinja's son, and none could deny the emotion they saw in her azure orbs.

Tembo, meanwhile, had his eyes fixed on Dhahabu. Softly, he whispered his own response. "Once I would have sworn no good could come from the line of Kuchinja...but I have heard and seen things today that make such an assessment impossible to believe. And I know Taraji as well as anyone here...as well as you yourself should, Dhahabu. Trust her heart, my friend..."

Dhahabu met his sister's pleading eyes, and at last his shoulders sank slightly before he squared them. "I have heard your reasoning...and I am pleased, because it agrees with mine." He glanced toward the boulder where the meerkat Cheko was perched to stay out of the way of massive paws. "Jahili has proven himself today...and so I will pardon all three of you. You may leave in peace."

Njaa let out an explosive breath at the same time Taraji began weeping for joy. He watched with a warmth and pleasure that would have been surprising once, but was so no longer, as Taraji left her love's side to embrace Dhahabu. As the young king patted her back and nuzzled her tenderly, Njaa caught his eye over her shoulder. "Thank you, Dhahabu, you will not regret this! But...if I may say so...none of us will be going anywhere if we do not receive some sort of healing soon." The large lion glanced at Tauni, then Jahili, and then the lionesses of the pride.

Taraji pulled back, a stricken expression forming. "How could I be so blind—of course! None of us survived this battle unscathed. We all need to see the healer..." She trailed off at Dhahabu's expression.

"She...died, Taraji. Just before Father was killed. And the mandrill clans are too far away...we'd never make it." The lion turned a worried expression to Malkia, suddenly at a loss as to what to do. Raising his voice, he addressed the pride. "Does anyone have any notions as to how we can find healing, and soon?"

Tembo's deep voice rumbled out of his chest thoughtfully. "There is a very old baboon who lives in a baobab tree in the center of Kiburi. He is much closer than the mandrill clans, and is extremely wise in the ways of medicine...he was one of the few non-elephants my father respected. There is only one thing that might be a problem...he dwells near Kituko Rock—Giza's former throne."

Dhahabu froze in place for several heartbeats, but at last he shook his head. "Giza can no longer harm us...we must deal with it, it is a part of our lands too. What is this baboon's name?"

"Diwani." But it was not the elephant who replied, it was Njaa. The golden tawny lion was nodding to himself. "I remember the tree you speak of, gray one...Diwani has lived here as long as I can recall. He is a most excellent healer."

Tembo nodded, his expression rather surprised at this sudden endorsement. Dhahabu lifted his head slowly, and met the eyes of each and everyone present. "Then it is to Diwani that we shall go...and let us not forget what has happened here. We must heal spiritually as well as physically, and remember why we still live."

As he spoke these words, the last vestiges of light faded from the sky and the sun dipped below the rim of the gorge, plunging them into night. The young king turned toward Jahili and managed a small, apologetic smile to Taraji. "Here...let me help you carry him. And...I am so sorry for the things I said to you. You did not deserve them."

The cinnamon lioness licked his cheek in acknowledgement. "I know you are, Dhahabu. And I don't blame you...it looked very bad from where you stood. But all that matters now is that we're still together, and there are no more secrets between us."

The golden lion sighed and joined his sister in leaning down to begin the painstaking process of working their way beneath Jahili's bloody forelegs. But as he prepared to shrug his shoulders and roll the mahogany lion onto his back, Dhahabu suddenly felt drops of wetness on his muzzle. Looking up, he watched as the sodden sky finally let loose its moisture, and soft rain began to fall to wet the earth and plaster his mane to his head. So gentle and cool, washing away the heat of battle...offering Aiheu's blessings to his endeavors...

It took nearly half an hour for both Tauni and Jahili to be situated with as much care as possible on the backs of the lions who would bear them. During that time there were many signs of reconciliation...Dhahabu and his sister touching, nuzzling, rubbing sides as they worked...Njaa and Asumini sharing warm and understanding glances.

But at last the pride was ready to depart this place of death and anger. Flanked by Tembo and the other lionesses, the four weary figures lifted their precious burdens and padded with extreme care down the throat of the gorge, the rain increasing its steady pace, forming a thick veil of mist that soon swallowed their stumbling silhouettes.

Behind the retreating lions, the floor of the cleft coursed with flowing water, a fast-moving stream lapping against the rocks and rippling with a cadent rhythm beneath the evening breeze. Three dark humps became miniature islands in the flood, their manes undulating in the current around them, streaming out, almost seeming to join the dark patches of blood being swept away from the bodies.

Lightning flashed, vividly illuminating the face of Kuchinja, finally at rest after being filled with hate for so long. It also revealed the soaked gray fur of his chest, washed clean of all blood...including the dried life-essence of Giza that had ridden there for ten years. Somewhere in the growing torrent, the dried scarlet liquid flowed again, lost from view, soaking into the earth, never to rise again.

* * *

(A/N: While I am sure no one was surprised that I had Njaa pull a Heel Face Turn, and to some extent Tauni either, while Ukware sort of had to survive for producing further descendants, I imagine I might have surprised a number of you with redeeming Kuchinja, somewhat, there at the end. He was a fairly monstrous and awful lion, but he was not totally evil. A great deal of his attitude, choices, and actions were dictated by the mistaken beliefs with which he was raised, both the general culture of Kiburi under Giza and the specific lies/omissions Giza made to him. Blame it on my desire not to keep things black and white...it makes the whole thing more tragic. You may even notice that I hinted at Kufa, Vita, and Ushindi not being fully Chaotic Evil either. [If anyone was that, it was Giza. I'd call Kuchinja Neutral Evil, or even Lawful since he believed so strongly in the rule of the pride.] And you've also seen how I handled all the various revelations, and mirrored Simba's Pride while taking things in a slightly different, a bit darker, and a more realistic direction. Next chapter will wrap up most of the dangling plot threads and resolve the tension in some relationships, and then there'll be an epilogue going back to Mufasa and Simba, of course. R/R!)


	11. Chapter 11: The Circle Unbroken

**Chapter 11: The Circle Unbroken**

Njaa could barely place one weary paw before the other, or even stay upright, as he padded weakly across the gently rolling hills of the savanna with Dhahabu and the other members of the Kiburi Pride. Yet despite the terrible wounds clotted with blood and his protesting muscles, the golden tawny lion pressed onward, not allowing his progress to be checked by anything. For he could not give up, not now when he had finally earned a peaceful rest...not when his brother and nephew depended on him.

Dawn had arrived only half an hour before, marking the end of the long, grueling night, which had varied from dull and dismal to tempestuous and violent, as the storm that had begun as they left the gorge intensified and howled across the land. On a positive note, the coursing rainwater had washed away much of their blood and kept their wounds clean, but at the same time the deluge had beaten them mercilessly, driven them back, and slowed their movements.

But finally the clouds had begun to tatter and drift apart as the rain slowed to a drizzle, and just before the sun heaved its aurous orb over the mountains far to the east, the sky cleared. Thus it was that a sodden, bedraggled party of lions, and one elephant, made its way toward the center of the Kiburi Lands under a slate-gray sky beginning to show signs of pastel blue, in search of the healing they needed.

Leaning heavily against Asumini, Njaa shrugged his shoulders and supported the weight of his unconscious brother as he staggered forward, determined that even if he should fall, he would continue on by crawling. Eyes glazed and bleary from lack of sleep the previous day, the lion at first did not recognize the massive baobab looming a hundred yards to the southeast as their destination. Only looking up now and then to gauge their position, he only registered it as another landmark to acknowledge they were actually moving at all.

But then, as they drew nearer, the golden tawny son of Giza sensed a flickering of familiarity...and then, gazing beyond the enormous girth of the tree, he spied a silhouetted pinnacle fronted by two angled slabs of stone...

At the same moment he realized where they were, the elephant Tembo let out a peremptory blast on his trunk, startling many of the lions to a halt. "There, Dhahabu!" He lifted his proboscis to point unerringly at the baobab. "That is where we shall find Diwani the healer."

Smiling up gratefully at Tembo, the young king nodded and began moving again, this time with a surer step and a renewed strength. Heartened, the other members of Kiburi followed, with Njaa and Asumini bringing up the rear. After another twenty minutes, the pride at last gathered beneath the sheltering boughs of the tree, where Tembo again blew a note of command from his trunk.

There came a rustling in the leaves, and a muttered grumbling, and then a wizened baboon emerged from a hollow among the limbs. Shimmying down the gnarled wood, he dropped to a lower level and hunched his way forward until he could see who waited below. He seemed startled by the lions, although whether it was because of their great number or their identities was not apparent. Fixing his eyes upon Tembo, he leaned upon a knobby walking stick he had brought with him.

"Why if it isn't young Tembo, the prodigal son! I have not seen you since the death of your father. What brings you here?" His voice was thin and reedy, with a strange lilt to it that was at once hypnotic and vaguely annoying. "Come to solve all the problems the lions make for themselves?"

Despite the seeming insult in these words, the elephant laughed. "Not at all, these lions have brought peace and justice to the lands, and by their own merit and blood. And what are you still doing living in this baobab? Hoarding and dispensing wisdom better left for the baboons?"

Chuckling, the crimson-furred mandrill shook his head and smiled fondly; clearly this was some sort of neverending game of bantering the two indulged in whenever they met. "Ah, and of course as an elephant you never forget anyone's proper place in the Circle of Life." But then, as the baboon peered downward, he spied the grievously wounded body of Jahili draped across Dhahabu's back, and his expression turned serious. "But what is this? Have you brought me those in need of my healing arts?"

Gravely, Tembo nodded. "This is Dhahabu, King of the Kiburi Pride—"

"Dhahabu, the Lion King!" The humped form bowed deeply as these words burst from his throat, and suddenly the young golden lion seemed to find something interesting about his paws, as a slow flush crept up his cheeks.

"Yes, Diwani," the elephant continued. "He has come here with me, and his pride, to receive medicinal aid, for many here have suffered injuries in the battle with the Wahamiji, and will not survive without it. Can you help them?"

With a practiced eye, Diwani assessed the condition of those most deeply wounded, Jahili and Tauni, as well the cruel gashes and bloody claw marks adorning the pale forms of Njaa, Taraji, and Dhahabu. Then he regarded the other members of the pride. At last he inclined his graying head. "Indeed I can, Tembo, although they would not have survived much longer without treatment. Let me fetch my supplies and I will set to work." And with that pronouncement the baboon turned and scrambled back up to the baobab's hollow, disappearing inside in the blink of an eye.

In a few short minutes Diwani reappeared and climbed down the tree, its rough bark providing plenty of hand- and footholds. Once on the ground, the mandrill crossed to Dhahabu, who let the limp form of Jahili slide from his shoulders. Opening the drawstrings on a leather pouch not unlike Asumini's, the baboon withdrew a handful of dried purplish leaves and fed them to the mahogany lion as everyone watched breathlessly. The healer ran a gentle hand over Jahili's shoulder and murmured soothingly to him as he waited for the painkiller to take effect.

Then, when he had checked the condition of Jahili's eyes and seemed satisfied by what he had found, Diwani produced a small bone and a length of sinew and began the slow, careful process of sewing closed the massive wounds on the young lion's chest and shoulders.

After another half hour, during which Diwani spread a creamy paste over and into the deep lacerations that covered Jahili's body, the baboon at last put a hand to his back and groaned as he bent back upright. Clutching his staff, he bobbed his head approvingly. "This one was close to dying, but he is young and strong, and will recover with time." He caressed the brown locks of mane falling over Jahili's face, then turned and approached Njaa.

The golden tawny lion gratefully lowered Tauni to the earth and collapsed onto his haunches, awaiting the healer's ministrations. The aged lips of the mandrill parted as he reached Njaa's side, and he had to lean forward to catch his words. "I always knew you would not be your father's son, Njaa...you have a good heart."

As Njaa stared in astonishment, Diwani twisted back spryly and eyed Dhahabu. "I will deal with the sons of Giza next...then you, my king, followed by your sister and the rest of your pride. Be patient, and you will see what Aiheu can do, when aided by a willing set of hands." Shifting back, he lifted his head so that the morning sun shone on the thick ruff of his beard and hair, setting the gray and white strands aflame with a glittering silver fire, and suddenly he did not seem old or whimsical, but alive with power and divine favor. The watching lionesses stirred, murmuring respectfully.

And so, as Diwani once again delved into his pouch for the medicines and herbs that would slow bleeding, and brushed back Tauni's mane to peer into his pain-glazed eyes, Njaa felt a constriction lessen in his heart. He remembered and trusted the baboon deeply...and seeing him at work now, he knew this had been the right choice. At last, all would be well...

* * *

Several hours later, their wounds treated and beginning the long process of healing, the members of the Kiburi Pride lounged beneath Diwani's tree, spread across the shady ground between the trunk and a small waterhole nearby. Tembo had found a mudhole large enough to hold him and was now blissfully basking in the cool wet stickiness. At last at peace, Dhahabu sat placidly on a hillock, Mahiri sleeping at his side. Sighing wearily, he glanced at Taraji hovering protectively over Jahili's still silhouette, then turned as the healer mandrill limped slowly toward him.

"Dhahabu...Your Majesty, now that all are on their way to recovery, I would speak with you alone, on matters of some concern to us all." He rested a wrinkled hand on the golden lion's shoulder.

Nonplussed, the young king rose to his paws and stretched languorously, yawning, before following Diwani out of the baobab's bulky shadow into the steadily increasing heat of the day. Together the two proceeded to the south, the immense shape of Kituko Rock looming in the near distance. Clearly that was the baboon's destination. Dhahabu frowned, uncomfortable. So much had already been asked of him...what more could he be facing?

When they stood in the shadow of the grim rock formation, Diwani planted his staff in the soil and leaned forward, a thoughtful expression on his face. "What do you see, Dhahabu?"

The golden lion let his eyes roam over the gray boulders, cracked ledges, and precarious acacias perched on the heights. Finally, he muttered, "I see a place of darkness, and evil, and loneliness."

Diwani clucked disapprovingly, his bushy eyebrows pressing together like mating caterpillars. "Is that all you see? It is true Giza tainted this mountain with his tyranny, but it is so much more than this...search your feelings..."

Reluctantly Dhahabu again regarded the pinnacle...and as he let his eyes rest on the peak of slanting stone, a strange emotion surged in his heart. He could not explain why, but pride seemed to fill him, as if this place were his birthright, or as if it could somehow bring him closer to the Kings... Eyes wide, he turned back. "I feel a warmth...a blessing...some inner goodness."

"Ah, now you are seeing with divine eyes rather than mortal ones. That is Aiheu's doing...he is always with us, and he wishes you to fulfill his will. And one aspect of that will is, this rock must be your throne." Diwani's words were soft, but forceful.

The Lion King's jaw dropped in stunned disbelief. "What? How can he expect me to—how can you know...?"

The mandrill chuckled and gestured back toward the baobab. "I have my ways, Dhahabu...I was once a shaman, and though I no longer practice, I still possess the skill of scrying the future. Aiheu is never distant from my heart...and he has been watching you, as have I."

Dhahabu's shock grew, and was joined by nervousness and doubt. All this time, throughout all his moments of insecurity and uncertainty, he had been under scrutiny? "He...has? I..." Swallowing with difficulty, he let out a shaky breath and struggled to reestablish his calm demeanor. If this had all been a test, he was not sure of his final accounting. "What is his judgment?"

Gray head bowed, the baboon smiled fondly at the muscled lion. "Young lion, you know better than that...Aiheu does not judge us until we come before him. But," and here he held up a finger, "I do think he is most pleased by what he has seen. You need not worry, as long as you continue to rule in the manner you have this past day."

His honey-gold mane cascading down to frame his muzzle, Dhahabu gazed at Diwani with a pained expression as he shook his head. Surely the baboon knew of his moments of faltering, of failure... "But I am not so sure I will be able to rule consistently. The throne is a heavy burden..."

Diwani patted his shoulder and squeezed firmly. "You will succeed, Dhahabu, because Aiheu has directed me to impart to you the necessary guidance to rule with fairness and justice, and to please the Kings."

The Lion King returned to him a look of awe and found his voice again. "And...I take it that one of the things in which you must guide me is learning to accept this...place...as my seat of power." He licked his lips nervously. "Why is it this must be so, or am I not permitted to know?"

The mandrill chuckled and waggled a finger. "Do not be so quick to judge...surely you have seen after the siege of the Wahamiji that your pride is in need of a more secure and unassailable home? And what could offer more protection than Kituko Rock?" Dhahabu bristled at this cavalier dismissal of the pride dens Mfalme himself had chosen, but when he saw the look of reproach on Diwani's face, the lion offered a contrite expression and backed down.

Satisfied, the healer nodded and then sighed. "But that is merely practical...there is a more compelling, spiritual reason. For you to truly complete your victory, you must purge all of Giza's evil from the land...and that requires the claiming, and renaming, of Giza's throne."

For a long moment Dhahabu contemplated the towering mountain, gathering his courage and preparing his heart as the brilliant ball of the sun inched slowly noonward, casting angled shadows that gradually sharpened and clarified. The arguments were sound, and he could not contest them...all that remained was to live with the consequence of the choice. Slowly he lowered his head in acquiescence.

"Very well...when they are ready to move, I shall relocate the pride here...and as for a new name, that is simple. I shall name it Kiburi Rock—or, more simply, Pride Rock." He nodded in approval, feeling relief and firm confidence flowing through him, as if he were now somehow more of a king than he had been when he defeated Kuchinja. He glanced askance at Diwani. "So...what is next on your list of tasks for me?" A wry smile touched his lips.

Crimson fur ruffling in the breeze, the baboon lifted his walking stick and smacked the end across Dhahabu's forepaw. As the lion cried out and jerked back instinctively, Diwani thrust out his chin. "That was for calling these deeds tasks...suggesting they are arduous and compelled from you. You will find that the other demands Aiheu has made are not difficult, and in fact are quite rewarding."

Rubbing his throbbing paw, the golden king frowned in displeasure, but did not object for fear of receiving another blow. "All right...then would you kindly inform me as to the nature of Aiheu's next request?" He attempted to keep as much sarcasm out of his voice as possible, but was certain it could still be detected.

Diwani smiled slightly, lowering his head to gaze at the ground as he mumbled to himself. "Already it begins...the stubborn tendency of this family not to listen, and to follow their own misguided path. Aiheu give me strength..." Rising up to once more meet Dhahabu's line of sight, the mandrill raised his voice as well. "I trust you will see the wisdom in obtaining a healer shaman to tend to your pride's needs in future?"

The young lion nodded agreeably. "Of course. My father made the same suggestion to me before he...died." A clouded expression entered his eyes, and his voice fell. "He said I should contact the mandrill clans to obtain one."

A sad, understanding look passed between them for a moment as the baboon observed a moment of silence for the fallen Mfalme. Then Diwani murmured gently. "Yes...Mfalme was always wise. But in this case, the wisdom is not only his own, but also Aiheu's. For the shaman is needed not only to minister to your pride's physical wounds, but also its spiritual ones, which are much more common and harder to seek out. The one who takes this position must be carefully considered and tested."

Dhahabu smiled and lifted a paw to thump the mandrill softly in the chest. "How so? If I had to choose it would be simple, I would select you."

"Me?" The mandrill burst into a gale of high, wheezing laughter. "No no no no, Diwani is too old for such a thing, Aiheu will be calling me to join him before another turn of the seasons. No, not I..."

Frowning, the king glanced off toward the east, where the nearest mandrill village lay two days' journey away at a walking pace. "Very well...who would you recommend, then?"

"If it were up to me, this lowly baboon would choose Makedde. He is young, but highly trained and quite skilled, and he has a gentle touch and a favor with Aiheu unequaled in the clans." Diwani gripped his staff and leaned forward to peer up into Dhahabu's eyes.

Resting a paw on the crimson shoulder, the lion nodded gravely. "So be it...I shall request Makedde specifically as my new shaman. So far so good...what else does my pride need?" The doubt and uncertainty of a few minutes ago had vanished from his voice, which was now more calm and accepting as the healer's requests became more reasonable.

Diwani leaned back, one hand pressed to his spine as he craned his neck to regard the point of Pride Rock's angled shelf. "What remains is a collection of rituals meant to ensure your legitimacy, and to instill confidence in both your subjects and your descendants. They will endure for every generation hence, by your decree, and bind you always to the land and to Aiheu."

Dhahabu's eyes widened, and he swallowed slightly at the import of this declaration. "All right...name them."

Sitting down with a grunt, the mandrill crossed his legs so that his long, strangely shaped feet rested on his thighs with their bare undersides turned upward. One hand resting on his knee, he reached down with the other and began stirring a patch of soil. The golden lion curled his lip in confused puzzlement at what appeared to be a pointless child's game. "Dhahabu...the earth is a part of who we are. From it we were made, to it we will return, and while we live we are tied forever to its care and protection. This is all reflected in the first ritual...the presentation of your heir to the pride and to Aiheu."

Dhahabu began to object, but Diwani silenced him with a raised hand. "I am well aware your cubs are four moons old and have already been introduced to the pride...but not in this way. Your new shaman must bear Mohatu, and his brothers, to the peak of Pride Rock, where they will be displayed to your subjects, whom you shall call with your mighty roar. Each must be anointed with the juice of the passion fruit, for it is bittersweet, like the mingled sorrows and joys of life. From a fruit it must come, for it is both the end of one cycle of life and the beginning of another."

The crimson form swayed gently from side to side in time with his voice, as if in a trance. "And then they must be sprinkled with the earth that gives them life, and held high so that all the animals may pay homage, and so Aiheu may bless them."

Dhahabu's breath rasped in his throat as this intense and powerful ceremony was described to him. Despite its simplicity he could sense the weight of meaning and the layers of power within it. "I...am humbled, Diwani. Such recognition is greatly appreciated. How soon must this ceremony be performed?"

"As soon as possible. In fact, dawn tomorrow would be best." The mandrill opened his eyes and smiled. "All the heirs there shall ever be in these lands must meet their creator at the beginning of the new day, and unlike your sons, they must do so as soon after they are born as is advisable."

The young king blinked, then spoke hurriedly. "Then I must send word to the mandrill clans, and to my subjects, as quickly as I can! And...may I invite Mahiri's family?"

"You may invite whomever you wish, my king, as long as you and your family, and your subjects, are present." Diwani scooped up a handful of earth and let it trickle from his hand to the ground, watching it fall while chortling approvingly to himself. Then he slowly uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet.

Mind racing, Dhahabu felt his heart beat faster as he considered the implications. At last, he would feel confident of himself, and that he and his sons deserved the honor they bore! Mfalme had earned his right to rule by defeating Giza...but he, and every Lion King in the future, would have to reaffirm their service to the lands and to Aiheu. And in instituting this ritual, he would be remembered and loved...he would make his father proud. "I gladly accept this charge, Diwani, as the token of esteem and respect it is meant to be. What are the other rituals Aiheu requires of me?"

Hunching forward, the baboon approached his side, his walking stick supporting most of his weight. When he reached the lion's shoulder, he lifted a slender hand to stroke and caress the locks of mane, beautiful still despite the sweat, dirt, and blood that streaked them. "The second ritual is one you will not need until your sons are nearing adulthood. To become an adult is a great responsibility, as you well know, and the sprouting of a mane is a sign that this approaches, that your sons will soon find favor on earth and with Aiheu.

"So when that day arrives, and the mantle of the mane has been laid on your sons' shoulders, you must present them again. You must use these exact words." His voice became insistent, compelling. "You must say, 'Let all within the sound of my voice know that my son is coming fast on the path of his forefathers. Look, he bears the sign.' Then, and only then, will your son's mantle become the mantle of kingship and respect in the eyes of Aiheu."

A strange sense of vindication rushed through Dhahabu at that moment. He had always felt denied a certain acknowledgment and responsibility when he had grown his own mane, despite the signs of affection and pride shown him at the time. Something had seemed lacking...and this ceremony filled that void. Now his sons and their sons would receive the attention and recognition they needed. Nodding firmly, he accepted this without question, feeling yet further at ease. "Very well...and what of the last ritual?"

The small smile on Diwani's face was gentle and amused. "Why that is the simplest of them all, but the one that shall be used most frequently. It will mark you as king, and ensure your worthiness shall never be forgotten. You must choose a ritual greeting you and your subjects will exchange upon meeting one another. Consider carefully, and let the voice of Aiheu speak to you."

Dhahabu blinked in surprise...but as thoughts raced through his mind and various alternatives were discarded, a stray memory flickered from the previous dawn, and suddenly he could smell the tangy metallic odor of blood, could feel brown strands of mane beneath his paw, could hear his father's deep voice whispering words that drove into his heart. Somehow he knew...he recalled the innate rightness he had felt at that moment, and knew that these were the words he must use...to honor Mfalme's legacy, to further bestow authority upon the lion's mantle, and to accent the personal connection between the Lion King and his subjects.

Leaning forward, he murmured in the mandrill's ear. A look of respect crossed his shriveled features, and then he stepped back a pace and bowed, almost prone upon the ground, one hand extended to barely touch Dhahabu's paw. "I touch your mane, my king."

"I feel it." Tears stood in the golden lion's eyes. Again, that strange sense of power radiating out, of a piece of a puzzle falling into place, of intertwining strands of fate weaving together like jungle vines. All was right, and Aiheu's favor filled him.

Slowly Diwani arose and crouched before him, his walking stick as tall and straight as a young sapling planted in the earth. At last he spoke. "Your Majesty...Dhahabu...you have chosen well. And now that you have agreed to fulfill Aiheu's requests, the Lion Kings shall never be deserted, and no matter how the winds of ill fortune may howl around you, the truth and goodness of your blood shall triumph. Pride Rock shall stand as a testament to your courage and strength, to inspire every generation in times of trouble and hardship."

Pale with shock and awe and trembling with the release of emotion, the young lion slumped forward slightly, and winced as the wounds in his chest began to seep with his movement. The mandrill narrowed his eyes, then wrapped an arm around Dhahabu's shoulders and began to guide him back the way they had come. "But that is the future, and for now the present troubles beckon. Return to my tree, and I will reapply my herbs. The Flame of the Forest is a most beneficial medicinal flower, granting hardiness to the weary...and it looks as if you could use its fire."

Suffering himself to be directed toward the shade, Dhahabu moved as if in a daze, still stunned by the ramifications of what he had wrought, his mind dwelling on all the swift changes he must implement and the messages of great import he must have delivered this day. But that could wait a short while...now he was in need of rest and relaxation, spending gentle hours with the members of his pride.

Yet even as he padded back toward Mahiri's slumbering form, he could not forget Diwani's momentous advice, for the land reminded him, its colors seeming to shine with a preternatural brightness...and Pride Rock, towering into the welkin, no longer languished in the shadows of gloom, but stood warmed by the meridian sun, as if cleansed by an inner heat that lit its cold granite with the orange-yellow hues of summer.

* * *

Asumini leaned down and stroked the furred cheek of Njaa as he slept in exhaustion beside her. She knew no other lionesses were nearby to witness this, but even if they had been she did not care how this gesture would appear to the others in the pride. This brother of Kuchinja was so different from the others, and her heart went out to him even now, as he lay prone with his side rising and falling arrhythmically. What he must have been through...

Despite the care she took to avoid it, Njaa felt the sensation of her touch and stirred. Smiling softly, he opened his eyes and gazed up at her. "What a lovely sight to see upon waking..." He winked.

Blushing, the lioness rose up and hung her head slightly. "Now you're simply exaggerating..."

The golden tawny lion blinked sleepily, then groaned and struggled onto his haunches. "I would never do such a thing...I never deviate from the truth, even in jest." He lifted her chin with one paw so that he could look into her eyes. "You are stunning, Asumini...as well as gentle, forthright, and honest. A very special lioness."

Asumini smirked. "One might think you were after something, noble sir."

Njaa raised an eyebrow innocently. "I? After something? Perish the thought..." For a moment his eyes rested upon something over her shoulder, and she glanced back to see Dhahabu returning from his solitary conversation with Diwani to gently nuzzle and caress his mate Mahiri. When she looked back, Njaa had a wistful expression on his face, as if he viewed something far beyond his reach. Asumini's heart thudded in her chest, and everything in her being urged her to end this lion's loneliness...

Searching for the words to express herself, she cleared her throat. "You need not worry about the king, Njaa...he and the pride have spoken, you will never be an enemy to us again, or face harm from our members."

"I wasn't worrying," the lion replied rather defensively. "I know I am safe...I was thinking more along the lines that he surely must not be comfortable with my presence. I should leave as soon as is feasible."

Asumini's heart nearly stopped at this suggestion. "No! You...you can't leave!" Seeking a reason, she latched onto the most ready excuse. "Your brother and nephew need to have time to fully recover from their wounds."

Njaa eyed her speculatively, as if doubting her sincerity or the motivation of her objection. But he nodded. "This is true...but, I should depart as soon after that as possible. Dhahabu wishes me to form my own pride, and that I shall do. It will be difficult at first, and harsh, and will require much traveling to find a suitable locale, but it is infinitely better than anything I experienced while living with Kuchinja."

Again, even though his talk of leaving now incorporated a delay, the lioness felt a need to intervene. "But you need not live such a life...do you? It would be so...lonely..."

"Not really...I will have Tauni, and perhaps Jahili and Taraji as well. I have no idea in what manner that matter shall be decided." Njaa frowned worriedly, glancing toward his nephew on the far side of Diwani's baobab.

"But is that enough, Njaa? I am certain you need more...such as..." A stray thought flitted through her mind, and instantly she pounced upon it. "Njaa...have you been alone all your life?"

Taken aback, the golden tawny lion made an annoyed face. "Of course not! I have had my brothers, and before them my father and the entire pride that dwelt at Kituko Rock. I have always had companionship of some sort."

"Not...female companionship?" The query hung suspended in the air around them, unanswered, as its significance loomed and grew, interweaving with the shocked silence. Njaa's mouth parted but no sound emerged as he realized the implicit meaning. Asumini herself could not believe she had said such a thing...she barely knew this lion! Yet she could not deny to herself that she wished to get to know him better...much better...

At last the brother of Kuchinja found his voice. "No...I have never found a lioness for me. There were several who could have become more to me than a friend, but none struck the right chord in my heart. I fear I may be a bachelor for all of my days." The corner of his mouth twitched despite the note of despair in his tone. "I take it you have an alternative?"

Asumini froze, uncertain as to whether she wished Njaa to know of her interest. Deciding discretion was best in case he did not return the feeling, she smirked and said, "Yes...I know of a lioness in this very pride who finds you very attractive."

"Do you now?" The golden tawny lion made a show of looking around the sleeping forms. "Anyone I know?"

"I think you do," the lioness replied with as much indifference as she could muster. "She has been watching you for some time, and she confided in me that she not only finds you handsome, but also intelligent, kind, and sympathetic. She wishes to get to know you better."

Njaa rubbed his chin with one paw, musing aloud. "I see...then it behooves me to fulfill her every fantasy and answer her request."

Asumini bristled inwardly, jealous that Njaa would suddenly let his eye rove to a lioness other than she...she barely concealed her irritation, but managed a polite reply. "I agree, Njaa...you should not leave Kiburi without first exploring all angles."

"Certainly not." A merry twinkle filled his emerald eyes, and a strong suspicion filled her mind as he ran his gaze familiarly over her muscled forelegs. Could he have seen through her ruse? Before she could speak again, the lion rose to his paws and limped closer to her, until he stood only a few inches away. Looking up into his face, she was enchanted by the depth of emotion and gentleness she found there, the humor and longing and respect mixed in equal measure. "But is this lioness willing to leave Kiburi and travel with me, wherever I may wander? Or to be separated from me for months and seasons at a time?"

Not having thought that far ahead, caught up only in her emotions, Asumini blinked, but she soon had an answer. "I...do not think she could ever leave her home, she is too loyal and has too many friends here. But although it would be painful, she would endure the separation and wait for you. For a lion such as you, she would do anything..." No longer bothering to conceal her desire, she met his gaze and could not tear herself away.

As if expecting this development, Njaa grinned almost cubbishly, and took another step closer, his musky form dwarfing hers. "I think...an arrangement could be reached. After all, I would never deny a lioness her heart's desire...especially one such as you."

Before Asumini could futilely object as her mind wished her to, or congratulate him on playing her so well—he'd known she was talking about herself all along, the sly son of a jackal!—Njaa took the last pace forward until no distance separated them at all. His paw lifted to encircle her neck, and then he lowered his head to hers and kissed her.

The upwelling of devotion and need in her heart was so explosive that Asumini simply melted into his embrace and returned the kiss with a fervency that seemed to surprise him, but he gamely increased his passion. And suddenly it did not seem to make any difference to the lioness that she had only met this lion the day before...the strength in his foreleg as he cradled her close, the warmth of his breath, the scent of his fur, the taste of his lips, it all felt utterly and undeniably right, as if it were meant to be...as if a lock had been clasped which could never be shattered.

Neither she nor Njaa noticed the silent, massive silhouette that circled the tree's base opposite them in his circuit toward other members of the pride...nor did they see the expression of astonishment slowly change to one of approval and warm pleasure on Dhahabu's face...

* * *

With a gentle purr and a soft nuzzle, Taraji rested her head against Jahili's shoulder and waited for his eyes to flicker open...for him to awaken and reassure her that he would survive this horrible battle with no permanent injuries, that he would never leave her side. Now that she no longer denied the truth, the cinnamon lioness wished to share every moment of her life with Jahili and her heart beat with the joy of being near him.

When at last he did stir, the mahogany lion's eyes, though pained, were filled with a love so pure and true it cut straight into her chest. His voice was weak, but steady. "Good morning, Taraji...did we win?"

Taraji chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Yes, my love, we won...although in your case I'm not sure how much of a victory it was." Her voice shook and fell to a whisper.

The mahogany lion sat up, leaning against her side and resting a paw on her shoulder. "Believe me, it was a victory for all of us...Father is at last at peace, and I truly was able to receive his respect and love, there at the end. My only regret is that it came too late...and that so much pain and death preceded it." He hung his head, his brown locks of mane falling to drape across his face.

Flicking her tongue out to soothingly caress his jawline, the cinnamon lioness leaned against him, every inch of her body pressed to his, as she purred in his ear. "Yes, that was unfortunate...but the Kings never fail to lead us onto the proper path, and their ways are often confusing and pass through the darkness before reaching the light." The form of a dark brown cub sprawled on the fallow ground of Kivuli encroached upon her vision.

"But is light what lies ahead of us?" Jahili frowned mournfully. "I know Dhahabu pardoned my uncles and I...but he would never let us be together. We shall be separated, never to see one another again..." His voice cracked and broke.

Taraji's jaw trembled as she tried to answer him, but before she could force her lips to wrap around the words, another voice interposed itself into the stillness. "That's where you're wrong, Jahili." Turning her head, the lioness gasped to see her brother Dhahabu standing unthreateningly beside the nearest tree root...a warm smile of joyful acceptance on his muzzle.

Startled, she began to rise, but the young king shook his head as he approached. "No, you need your rest, Taraji...both of you do." He glanced at Jahili with concern as he sat down beside the mahogany lion. "And you will have plenty of time to get it, because I have decided to allow you and your uncles to stay in Kiburi until you have fully recovered your health." A sad expression formed as his voice dropped. "But...I am afraid after that you will have to leave...I wish it could be otherwise, but there can only be so many males in a pride, and I already have three sons."

Jahili hung his head, understanding mixed with self-doubt and loneliness on his face. But his muzzle lifted in shock as Dhahabu suddenly leaned forward and nuzzled him gently. "Yet...although I cannot allow you to stay here, there is one thing I can do for you. I'm sorry, Jahili...I was wrong about you. You are a brave and noble lion, and I give you my blessing to be my sister's mate." There was a wry smirk on his lips and a twinkle in the other's gray eyes. "That is, if that's what you want..."

Taraji stared in slack-jawed amazement, every feature betraying a sudden burst of hope and excitement. Every inch of her body quivered and shook with whirling emotion. At last...what she had dreamed of! "Oh...Dhahabu...!" Her choked reply was followed by a leap to her paws and an impulsive embrace.

Dhahabu smiled gently and patted his sister's back with a massive paw, eyes fixed on a faraway place as he sensed the breach between them closing and healing. He caught Jahili's attention and returned a look of firm respect, which caused the young lion to blush profusely.

When the cinnamon lioness at last broke the embrace, she whispered softly, "Thank you...you have no idea what this means to me."

"Yes I do." The king grinned and winked, then turned back to Jahili and rested a paw on his shoulder. Squeezing the muscle, he murmured, "You are my brother now...so do what Sulubu would have done, and take good care of my sister."

A look of awe joined the tears in the mahogany lion's blue eyes. "Y-your Majesty...I don't know what to say! Of course I will...I love her more than I do my own life." The loneliness faded from his expression as he stared longingly at Taraji. For a moment he seemed uncertain what to do...for so many months the possibility of redemption and acceptance and an open, unconcealed relationship had been denied him. Finally he wrapped a foreleg around Dhahabu and clasped him close. "You are truly a wise king, Dhahabu."

Blinking rapidly at his own tears, the golden lion nodded into Jahili's mane and then gently disengaged, gesturing to Taraji. "I don't need wisdom to see this is right...I can feel it in my heart, when I look at you and her together."

As Jahili stepped back and limped to the cinnamon lioness's side, she bit her lip and slumped her shoulders. "But...brother, where will we go? I cannot leave Jahili, but you have said he cannot stay here. Must I be an exile?"

Dhahabu sighed. "No, not an exile...consider yourself let free from the responsibilities of this pride. You have found your life, your love, your happiness...your peace. Go with him, Taraji...it is where the Kings wish for you to be, or your devotion would not have survived all that has tested it. And you know you will always be welcome here, to visit whenever you like."

The sadness of parting suddenly was overshadowed by a growing pride and eagerness lighting up his countenance. "But you will still be here for many weeks, I should imagine...long enough to spend as much time together as possible. First, however, there's a little ceremony I'd like you both to attend tomorrow at dawn...a presentation of my cubs to the pride and to Aiheu."

Jahili perked up noticeably at this announcement, and a broad smile appeared. "There's nothing more I'd like than to finally meet your cubs, Dhahabu...you can count on it."

Taraji felt as if her heart would leap out of her chest...the prospect of finally filling the void in her life for good, of never being severed from Jahili, was both daunting and exhilarating. Instinctively she pressed against Jahili's side and began licking and caressing his face and ears, to his extreme enjoyment—the lion practically melted, his tongue lolling and his eyes rolling upwards, prompting an understanding laugh from Dhahabu. Giggling, the cinnamon lioness began depositing her scent on her mate with fervency and pleasure. "Oh brother...I still cannot thank you enough...for everything!"

"It is I who should thank you, for opening my eyes, for making me see the truth, and for saving my life. As to Jahili..." Another merry twinkle appeared in his gray orbs. "In his case you should be thanking Cheko. He's the one who knocked the most sense into me."

"Did somebody say my name?" The grass rustled beside a nearby slate boulder, and abruptly the tiny meerkat leaped into view. Scrambling up the rock, he smiled disingenuously and bowed a little before posing on the stone's surface.

All three lions laughed at this. Cheko frowned and crossed his arms, but whether his indignation was feigned or not was difficult to tell. "Hey...what's de matter? Is dere a bug caught in my teeth?"

Wiping her eyes, Taraji snickered. "Oh Cheko...I don't know what we'd do without you!"

"Suffer in boredom, probably." The meerkat winked. "Dat's what most of ya do, but not me, I look at life differently. An' if ya wanna learn t' laugh again, I'd suggest ya follow my advice."

Jahili, who had been chuckling, paused and considered this seriously. "You know he's right...he's helped us all a great deal, and his advice has never been wrong. Things would have turned out much more tragically if not for him. He should be rewarded."

"Yeah you bet I should be! I mean, awwww, dat ain't necessary, I was just doin' what any law-abidin' member of dis pride would've done in my place." Cheko hurriedly tried to wipe the greedy expression from his face, but the subsequent nobility and selflessness that he affected was as completely out of character and unconvincing as the grave and benevolent set of his chin.

Dhahabu snorted derisively, but his good-natured smile showed his true feelings as he regarded the meerkat thoughtfully. "You're absolutely right, Jahili. What reward would you suggest?"

Jahili considered, trying to ignore his peripheral vision, where Cheko was now dancing frantically to get his attention. "I think it's only fair that he receive the position he originally claimed to me he held...that of an adviser to the Lion King."

Cheko ceased gyrating so quickly he almost stumbled and fell off the boulder. A mixture of shock, pride, and disgruntled approval twisted his mouth. "Me? An adviser? I...well of course dat's only t' be expected—I mean, dat would be a great honor an' I'd be happy t' accept. But I was kinda hopin' for a lifetime supply of crunchy, slimy bugs!" He glared at Jahili.

Taraji looked vaguely ill and turned away, but neither of the males seemed to mind. The mahogany lion imitated Cheko's solemn demeanor and looked at Dhahabu. "I think that could be arranged, don't you?"

"But of course." The Lion King deported himself with equal gravity. "Such is but one of the perks of the position."

The meerkat rose to his full height and stabbed a finger at the air. "Now dat's more like it!" He leaped down from the boulder and scampered to Dhahabu's forepaw, clutching the thick fur and beginning a rapid climb up his sculpted body, to the lion's obvious amusement.

When he at last reached the top of his shoulder, he grabbed the honey-gold mane and settled comfortably into a pocket within the silky locks, arranging it with a fastidious air to form a makeshift nest. "But dat can't be de end of it, dere's lotsa details we gotta work out..." Cheko intertwined his fingers and cracked them satisfyingly, eyes bright as he prepared for a serious round of haggling.

It took all of Dhahabu's self-control not to collapse in laughter and squash the hapless meerkat beneath his convulsing body. Shoulder quaking, he glanced at Taraji and Jahili and saw that each was now oblivious to him, their eyes locked on one another, the shifting mists of love and unending desire dancing in their blue orbs. It was as if the rest of the world did not exist. Reminded of himself and Mahiri, the young king sighed contentedly before returning his gaze to the meerkat. "I agree...but I think we should work them out elsewhere, and leave these two alone. They've earned it."

Suiting actions to words, the golden lion rose to his paws and padded with soft slow steps back the way he had come. Just as he was about to round the baobab, he glanced back over his shoulder. In the shadow of the tangled limbs, his sister and Jahili had drawn closer still, their fur almost the same hue in the darkness so that it appeared they had blended together as one entity...reflecting the state of their hearts. Then, tenderly and lovingly, Jahili leaned in and kissed Taraji. Neither would ever be alone again...

Wiping tears from his eyes, Dhahabu peered down and saw that, surprisingly, Cheko too was secretly dashing salty fluid from his cheeks. Hurriedly he shoved his hands behind his slim striped back as he noticed the king looking. "What? Don't ya think a guy like me could have a heart? Jahili's my bud, I'm happy for 'im."

"I know you are, Cheko...I know you are." Smiling fondly, Dhahabu once more commenced walking the path around the tree. "But you wanted to discuss the terms of your advisorship. I certainly hope we can come to an agreement that suits your liking."

Cheko ran a hand through the rust-colored plume of hair atop his head and chuckled. "Aww, Dhahabu, my demands ain't gonna be dat awful...don't you worry, your Majesty, hakuna matata!" He paused, as if struck by the attractiveness of his own words, and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hey...I kinda like de sound of dat..."

* * *

Tattered clouds, the last vestiges of the storms of the previous night, drifted slowly across the luminous face of the moon, sending strangely shaped shadows skittering across the ground, but after several minutes the misty tendrils were swept clear by the wind, allowing the magnificent lunar face to shine down undisturbed on the blocky, brooding form of Pride Rock thrusting up from the plains below. Perched on the tip of the pinnacle, a lone form stood as a sentinel, set to guard the dark and fertile land as it languished in the silvered peace of the early morning hours.

A hyena harangued the savanna with its unearthly cry somewhere in the night, and atop the angled rock, Dhahabu shivered. As he and his pride had traveled through Kiburi toward Diwani's tree following the battle, he had belatedly realized Ukware, Mwoga's son, remained unaccounted for and had likely escaped. To what place he had vanished, no one knew, but he was sure to return and cause trouble another day...a loose end that might yet unravel the fabric of peace. He sighed.

But other loose ends had been more neatly tied. Despite raised eyebrows, whispered words, and a few muttered grumblings, the Kiburi Pride had relocated without a vocal protest, leaving their old dens for the caves and ledges of Pride Rock, where a cistern located behind the pinnacle provided fresh water, to everyone's delight.

Detera had been sent back to bring Maarifa and the others, and for their part Mohatu and his brothers had been eager to explore their new home and discover new mischief, to the chagrin of Dhahabu and Mahiri, who worried that the cubs might tumble from the heights of the mountain.

Matters of pride business had been dealt with swiftly and efficiently. Two cheetah messengers had been dispatched, one to the mandrill clans to request a shaman, the other to Kusini to invite Adhimu and his family to the presentation ceremony the following dawn, the latter having been sent immediately after Dhahabu's talk with Diwani to allow the lions plenty of time to travel the large distance.

The mandrills, honored and somewhat bewildered by the Lion King's sudden recognition of their wisdom and skill, hastily convened their councils and with little debate confirmed the choice of Makedde as Kiburi's shaman. He too would be traveling this night to arrive at Pride Rock at dawn.

Within the pride itself, changes of an organizational nature had occurred. Huyjinga, who had been pressed into service as the pride's temporary head huntress following the death of Farate, was instated to her position permanently, to Simana and Malkia's great joy. As advisers Dhahabu chose Diwani and Cheko, the latter prompting a cloud of humor within Kiburi, but the meerkat took his duties seriously and swore to always be loyal.

Tembo, meanwhile, had received a blessing he had hoped for but which had never been officially acknowledged—before all the members of the pride, Dhahabu had humbly and gratefully bestowed the position of majordomo on his dear friend, using words soft and respectful that brought tears to the elephant's eyes.

Breaking from his reminiscences, Dhahabu stared off into the cloaking shadows of the darkened savanna with tears of his own, remembering the pride he had felt at that moment...it had been so right. All of the changes, despite their suddenness and newness, had been right, he could feel it. The pride was now even further entrenched within the land, with new connections among the various animals—mandrill and meerkat, elephant and lion.

Even the hyena clans had been invited to join Kiburi, as a token of good faith to show no hard feelings were nursed in vengeful hearts. So many changes...but he was a new king, and such was to be expected. A new king, and an uncertain one—but about this, he felt only conviction and a positive outlook. Whatever else might occur, he had done well.

"Your Majesty...I touch your mane." The soft female voice startled him, causing the lion to flinch visibly. Turning, he was surprised to see Guyana at his side, bowing and with one paw extended, just as Diwani had done earlier that day. Dhahabu had informed the pride of the ritual greeting, and it had been adopted wholeheartedly.

"I feel it. You may rise, Guyana. What brings you to me tonight?" Dhahabu inclined his head, a puzzled expression on his face.

The gentle wanderer sat back on her haunches and regarded him fixedly. "Your Majesty...years ago I first came to these lands when Giza ruled them. I saw a need for my presence, to aid in guiding Kiburi towards goodness and prosperity, and so I predicted the rainy season to gain Giza's trust. Since then I served him loyally, although as a secret dissenter to his reign, and afterwards Mfalme as well. But now I must confess I no longer see a need for my presence."

Shock rippled through Dhahabu—this was the lioness who had so warmly and sympathetically spoken with him, comforted him, and guided him during those dark days after Sulubu's death when all he had to live for was his father's teachings. Without Guyana he did not know what he would have done...and now she wished to leave? "Guyana...you will always have a place here! My kingdom does require you, and many things lie in store for your time in Kiburi."

But the lioness shook her head, her amber eyes never wavering. "No, Dhahabu...I have accomplished what I intended to do, seen the downfall of Giza and his family, and helped to usher in a golden age of monarchy here. Now that that is done, my only possible role could be as an adviser...and you already have Diwani, Cheko, and Tembo, and soon Makedde will be here as well. No, my time in Kiburi is done, and I must return to my wanderings. Somewhere there is another pride, another place, in need of my wisdom."

Words of protest struggled to rise up from Dhahabu's throat, but one look into her eyes forestalled them. Slowly, reluctantly, he sighed and hung his head before nodding. "Very well...if that is your wish, I cannot hold you here against your will. And I would not question your reasoning, nor do I wish to deny other lands and lions your healing touch. But may I say I will miss you greatly, Guyana...there is no other lioness like you, nor shall there ever be again."

"What a lovely thing to say, Dhahabu." Guyana's eyes twinkled, bringing a slight blush into the golden lion's cheeks, as she approached to nuzzle him. "You always were quite the charmer." Winking, she kissed his muzzle and patted his shoulder. "Thank you...and I shall miss you as well. My time with you was well spent, and you have become a lion to make me proud...to make all of us proud." Rising once more, she turned and began pacing back down the slanted slope of the mountain. Just before reaching the ledge that led down toward level ground, she called back over her shoulder, "Farewell, your Majesty..."

Long after she was gone Dhahabu sat with his paw pressed to his face, eyes moist as memories of Guyana replayed unbidden in his mind. Finally he sighed and returned to gazing at the night sky. Suddenly it seemed more lonely...the moon still shone, but with a coldness that spoke of emptiness and the silent witness of the march of the tides, of a vigil with no end and no point.

The stars burned in their multitudes, but so distant as to remove even the thought of the warmth their hearts contained. Dhahabu wondered if, despite his family and pride, this was what his life would ultimately amount to as a king...a solitary path to destiny. Or perhaps this was what Aiheu, despite the wonder of his creation, felt...

As if his thoughts had summoned him, a small paw suddenly tugged at his foreleg, and Dhahabu glanced down to see Mohatu peering up with a pleading expression. He blinked, then smiled softly, glad to have his son with him. "Yes, Mo? Did you want something?"

"Yeah, Dad..." The cub rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "It's about this ceremony tomorrow..." He seemed to search for the words. "Do I have to do anything, or say anything? I don't wanna mess it up for you..."

Laughing at this, the king leaned down and scooped Mohatu close, nuzzling him lovingly. "Oh son...there's no way you could mess up this ceremony...you want to know how I know? Because to make it come to pass, all you have to do is be yourself."

Mohatu scrunched up his face in confusion. "What do you mean, Dad?"

"Son, this ceremony is intended to let you be presented to the pride as my heir, and for Aiheu to bless you. You don't have to do anything special to be the heir, you already are, and you don't need to say any unique words to receive Aiheu's blessing, because he loves you and wishes to honor you just for who you are in here." He touched the cub's chest where his small heart was beating rapidly. "Now do you understand?"

A small smile curled the corners of his lips, and Mohatu nodded. "Yeah I do! But...what about Busara and Makani?"

Dhahabu's eyes clouded over for a second as he considered this, but then a thought struck him as to another precedent he could set. "Well...they will be presented too! You will be called the heir, but they will be prince consorts, with duties and responsibilities just as important as yours. How's that sound?"

"I think it's a splendid idea!" A slight chuckle sounded, and then Mahiri paced onto the end of the promontory, her cream pelt shimmering iridescently in the moonlight. When she reached their side, the lioness leaned down and licked Mohatu's ears, to his annoyance.

"Yeah, Dad, that sounds only fair!" The golden cub shoved Mahiri's muzzle away and wiped his cheek and ears with one paw distastefully, prompting a laugh from his mother.

"Is everything all right now, Mo?" Mahiri queried fondly. "Because you need your sleep if you're going to get up in time for the ceremony."

Mohatu's eyes widened and he gasped. "Awww man I forgot, it's at dawn! Yeah, I gotta go...thanks Dad!" Winding between Dhahabu's forelegs and rubbing against his fur, the cub dashed off several yards, waiting eagerly for Mahiri, who hung behind to kiss the king's cheek. Dhahabu chuckled and watched Mohatu with pride before returning the gesture. Thick clouds passed across the moon, obscuring its light, but even in the enclosing of darkness he could see her brilliant green eyes shining with love and devotion.

"You are so good with him, my mate...with all the pride, in fact. You have truly come into your own, Dhahabu...and I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am of you." Mahiri rubbed her chin against the back of his maned neck, then turned and slid muscle to muscle along his body, her tail passing along his chest and back, lingering a moment on his haunches.

The lion looked back over his shoulder, heart thumping at the seductive look in her eyes, as she padded slowly back toward the ledge that descended to the royal den. Shadows seemed to creep behind her as the clouds in the sky roiled and built higher, and an ominous rumble shook the welkin. Apparently another storm was on its way.

But just before Mahiri and her son disappeared from sight, Mohatu spun on his paws and called back. "Dad...tomorrow will be great, won't it?"

Smirking, Dhahabu nodded. "It certainly will, son."

"But...one thing would make it even better." Mohatu's expression became crestfallen.

"Oh?" The young lion perked an ear to catch the cub's words over the rising wind and raised his voice to be heard. "What's that, son?"

"Well...I wish Grandpa could be here to see it." Muzzle drooping in sadness, Mohatu turned again and moved much more slowly off the rocky slab. Mahiri paused, shooting Dhahabu a pained and regretful look, then followed.

Stinging tears filled Dhahabu's eyes, made worse by the grit stirred by the swirling air currents, and he squinted as he padded back toward the point of Pride Rock. Biting his lip, he stopped and sat down heavily, a ragged breath escaping him, and in moments his chest and shoulders, in fact his entire body, shook with broken sobs.

Such simple words...yet they renewed his pain and caused grief to wash over him, to drown his hope and confidence. Within, he was still the uncertain cub he had always been, needing one last time the assurance of his father that everything would be all right, that he would succeed.

But that would never come, now.

Bitterly he stared at his paws, ignoring the increasingly agitated clouds and the shadows they produced, the pounding thunder and the whining wind. Muttering to himself in a voice thick with despair, he squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh Mohatu...I wish Father could be here to see it too..."

The rumble in the sky increased, shuddering from horizon to horizon...and then the carefully constructed walls Dhahabu had built between himself and his guilt and sorrow crumbled to dust as a voice he had never expected to hear again in life throbbed from the heavens, filled with gentleness and warmth that swept through his soul, tearing away the veil of death and opening him to a rush of emotion that seemed to cleanse his body of every fear and grief, leaving only awe.

"But son...he is already here...as he has always been, and shall always be..."

As Dhahabu sat in stunned shock, before his eyes a strange cloud formation swelled and rolled, rotating endlessly as it grew to cover the eastern sky. Eerie shapes darted about, as a massive silhouette began to darken and solidify. A swirl of cloud parted, and then the image of Mfalme appeared in the stars. As his father approached, padding on a nonexistent ground, Dhahabu gulped...the lion was completely transparent and void of color except for various shades of blue. A spirit come from beyond the grave...

"Oh Father...Father..." Weeping for joy, the lion stared longingly upward. Even knowing Mfalme was dead, just to see him once more seemed to erase the renewed pain at the moment of its inception and flood his heart with hope. The great lion was not truly gone, he watched from the heavens...

That thought stunned him, and he stammered rapidly. "Father, have you been watching me? How am I doing? Have I made you proud? Is this the proper course?"

Mfalme's brow seemed to furrow, and he shook his substanceless head in rueful disbelief. Suddenly his very presence suffused the air around Dhahabu as the fallen king spoke again, enfolding him in a comforting embrace to still his fears and instill peace in his heart. "Oh Dhahabu...why do you still doubt so? Has nothing I taught you remained in your thoughts?

"I have indeed been watching...but son, you cannot allow yourself to second-guess every decision you make based on whether I would approve. You are the king now, and you must judge only by your own beliefs, your own sense of right and wrong." The spirit paused, then smiled softly. "But to answer your question, yes I am proud of you, as I shall always be."

The golden lion swallowed and rose to his paws, tentatively approaching the tip of the promontory. Above, the clouds swirled again, filling in details of the spirit's visage. Light flared behind Mfalme, and color soon followed. The ghostly outline changed until Mfalme appeared just as he had in life...but a slight transparency and a faint emptiness in his emerald eyes still revealed his true state.

"Dhahabu...the Kings granted me this chance to speak with you, because they have perceived your doubts. They wished me to tell you that they too are proud of you, and Aiheu as well. You did not give in to your rage, and because of it Kuchinja has a chance at redemption that would otherwise have been beyond his reach. You did not remain crouched in a perceived sense of perfection, but realized you could be wrong. You have enabled great good to occur, and brought honor to yourself and the pride.

"The Kings wish to commend you, and they wish you good luck at all your endeavors." Mfalme's voice, even as serene and susurrating as it was, throbbed with emotion, and Dhahabu could almost swear there were crystalline tears in his lambent eyes—or perhaps it was only a brilliant star shining through from the sky beyond.

"Dad...I don't know what to say...thank you!" The young lion's gray eyes brimmed over. "This means so much to me...and tell the Kings thank you as well, for letting you come to me this way. I...needed to see you, to have closure..."

Brown locks of mane stirred in a nonexistent wind as Mfalme smiled again. "Ah, but there is more...the Kings knew there was something else you needed as well, and Aiheu gave his blessing for it..." Turning, the spirit glanced askance at another patch of churning clouds. Dhahabu peered curiously, noticing another silhouette approaching, one much smaller and moving more rapidly than Mfalme had...almost scampering, in fact...

Dhahabu stopped breathing for a full minute.

No. It couldn't be...

But it was. Another spirit resolved into being beside Mfalme, manifesting itself as an adorable brown cub whose every muscle and feature was etched into the young king's memory...unchanged from the last day he had seen him, the day of his death...black mane tuft still sprouting at a rakish angle, a glint of mischief in his earth-brown eyes.

Sulubu.

"Hiya bro!" Dhahabu's eyes closed for a moment and his massive frame shook with sobs as tears streamed down his fur...even the voice was the same. "Whoa, you sure grew up big, Dhahabu! I always knew ya would...ya didn't believe me, but I told ya you were gonna be strong!"

The king opened his eyes again and watched his brother perch on the masses of grayish cloud beneath his paws as if they were humps of soil or boulders, his bright eyes peering down in awe as his tail swished in delight. The cub's spirit grinned, but then his look turned serious. "I told ya a lot of things ya didn't believe, bro. Why didn't ya believe me?"

Dhahabu struggled to find the words, his voice hoarse. "Sulubu...I...I couldn't. I had to see it for myself, experience it. That's the way I am. But I know now you were right...you were always right."

Sulubu chuckled. "Told ya..." But his affectionate smile showed he was not truly being arrogant. "So now that ya know better, I want ya to believe me on more thing, bro. I want ya to know that I am proud of ya too...and that I don't blame ya for what happened in Kivuli...so ya don't need to punish yourself anymore."

At these words Dhahabu burst into a torrent of tears, but they were cleansing ones. Even as his shoulders quivered and stricken whimpers escaped his throat, he could feel the guilt and shame washing out of him, leaving him feeling more alive and whole than he had in many months.

When at last the golden lion looked up, his eyes burned and his muzzle was soaked with tears, but he managed a grateful smile. "Thank you, bro...I needed that more than anything else. I just wish...I wish you could have lived, and grown up with me, and been able to become an adult."

Sulubu tilted his head to the side and regarded Dhahabu curiously. "Well...Aiheu said I had special dis...dis...dispensation to show ya what I would have looked like if I'd grown up!" He winked and then closed his eyes. As the Lion King watched in astonishment, the spirit shimmered and proceeded to grow, muscles bulging, body lengthening, mane sprouting and cascading down his broad shoulders. In moments his brother was a massive figure of a lion, as large as Mfalme or Kuchinja, his gorgeous mane thick and lustrous, like ebony. But when he opened his eyes, they were the same mischievous ones Dhahabu knew so well.

Jaw hanging, Dhahabu could not hide his amazement or appreciation. "Sulubu...you're magnificent!"

Sulubu chuckled and turned first one way, then another, to show off his powerful physique and smooth, unruffled fur. "I rather like it," he commented wryly. His voice was a rumbling bass, quite a difference from his cubhood pitch. "Any age is possible for me...but I prefer being a cub, because it is more fun that way! And at any rate, I don't think it's fair that I be an adult if I didn't go through all the changes and challenges that accompany maturation, do you?"

Mfalme cleared his throat and raised a misty eyebrow, eyes narrowed at this display of self-admiration. Sulubu managed to look sheepish and trailed off. Then the mahogany lion looked back at Dhahabu. "Our time grows short, and we must return to Aiheu, but before I leave, let me remind you once more: let your heart guide you, my son. It has never failed you before...and never shall. The Circle shall stand forever, unbroken, by the prints of your paws." Nodding firmly, he stepped back, and with that motion the spirit's face lost its clarity, becoming an outline once more. The clouds moved with him, rolling and surging as the sound of thunder again shook the sky.

Dhahabu called out desperately, but his father was already fading. Sighing, he instead whispered, "Farewell, Father...rest in peace. I will do as you ask...with your wisdom to guide me, I cannot fail."

With a final rumble, the soul of Mfalme was gone...yet Sulubu lingered, gazing at his brother with eyes that held a profound mystery. Beyond his maned head, the sky was beginning to lighten with the approach of dawn, casting a halo of coruscating light around his countenance. A deep, thrumming purr reached Dhahabu's ears, and in seconds he echoed the sound.

For endless minutes the brothers faced one another, united at last in pride and respect, unspoken words and emotions flowing between them, each passing on what he had learned and accepting without question what the other held faithfully in his heart. Finally, Sulubu sighed and rose to his enormous paws as well. But he too paused in thought. "Brother...there is little I can add that you have not already heard from Father, or your pride. But I can give you one last piece of advice that I gave you in life...let us see if it holds just as much meaning now as it did then...or if it holds even more."

His spirit began to dissipate slowly, as tendrils of fog driven from mountain valleys by the sunrise, dissolving apart into splashes of color and ethereal moisture, candent in the shining rays. But Dhahabu could still hear his voice as Sulubu smiled almost beatifically, eyes filled with peace and joy, and he could feel a solid, powerful warmth around his shoulders, as if the dark lion were there on the pinnacle, embracing him. "Be the greatest king ever, brother..."

Sulubu's visage scattered into dispersing clouds and flaring light, and then he had vanished, and in his place the burnished disk of the sun rose, celestial glory spearing outward to warm and enlighten the land. Chest heaving with the power of this moment, Dhahabu felt the rapture build, the excitement, as he realized he had no more need to dwell on the past, or suffer for something that had not been his fault. True, his brother and father would never live again...but for this moment it had seemed that they had, and it reminded him that they would always be watching.

He had to move on, and believe in himself. He had done well with Kuchinja, Mfalme had said so...Aiheu was pleased, Diwani had implied...he was where he belonged, ruling the land of which he was an integral part, Tembo had admonished...and in his own heart, he knew he had done right by Taraji and Jahili, and had made improvements within the pride. There was no reason to doubt any longer. If he failed now, it would only be because he refused to try...

All he had to do was have the courage to do what was right, whether others believed that it was or not.

Gazing out at the impressive array of hues that rimmed the eastern horizon, as if a divine finger etched them into place, the golden lion watched as the incandescent sun heaved itself over the peak of Kilimanjaro, following a course as familiar and ancient as the stars whose brilliance it now masked with its fiery light...gazing down at the world as it rotated endlessly, creating the illusion of the sunrise. Beneath its touch the Kiburi Lands shimmered and basked in radiance, every ripple of water, every leaf and branch, every blade of dew-kissed grass reflecting back the astonishing display. Warm, inviting, beautiful...a panorama of prosperous splendor.

The ceremony was set to begin as soon as he gave the call to the herds to gather at this place, to honor and worship, to recognize what bound them all to each other and to the earth. And he was ready...ready to remember his responsibilities, and to face them rather than hide behind his worries and fears. No king lacked those emotions...but every king who succeeded persevered against them, fought on despite them. And with Sulubu and Mfalme, Aiheu and the Kings—in fact, with everyone believing in him, for the first time he felt he could do so.

It was time.

Bracing himself, Dhahabu closed his eyes and listened to the hushed stillness of the ever-changing, ever-inspiring world, and then he roared triumphantly, startling a flock of guineafowl into clumsy flight and sending shivers of respect and fear down the spines of a herd of zebra. Atop the pinnacle of Pride Rock he stood, every limb stretched to its fullest extent, tail lashing, claws gripping the stone, chest and throat throbbing with the awesome sound, head thrown back so that his mane lay gilded by the sun.

At last the roar subsided, and Dhahabu, the Lion King, lowered his head to gaze once more in awe, pride, and longing at the lands that were his...the lands he ruled...the lands he loved.

* * *

(A/N: The part with Diwani and those traditions he asked to be instituted is my way of explaining where the traditions in "Chronicles of the Pride Lands" came from. Since Asumini never ended up with another mate in that story after her first one died, I chose to pair her up here with Njaa. I wish I had made her appear more earlier in the story, so that she [and their romance] didn't feel so tacked on, but I didn't think of the idea right away and I wasn't sure where I could have fit her in anyway. The same thing goes for the other lionesses of the pride, particularly Guyana's role as a shaman of sorts and her aiding Taraji as a cub. But then, if I had made her and the other lionesses appear before and more prominently, that would have been yet more names for you to memorize and new characters being introduced all at once...so this way may still have been best. Oh well.

And that resolves the majority of the plot threads and character arcs. There are a few last loose ends which will appear in the epilogue, when Simba asks Mufasa to explain what didn't get addressed here. Otherwise that will be it. R/R!)


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"And so it was that a young cub, much like yourself, grew up to overcome all obstacles and rule as a wise and brave king, as he was destined to do."

Mufasa's voice trailed off, and the Lion King lapsed into a profound silence. Beneath the velvet night sky packed with stars, not a creature stirred, not a sound broke the stillness. It was as if the entire world lay in awe of the tale, just as young Simba did. The cub stared up at his father, golden-furred cheeks soaked and streaked with tears of grief and happiness, amber eyes as round and luminescent as the moon high overhead, overflowing with emotions unnamed.

Finally, Simba managed to unlock his throat and whisper into the hush. "Wow...Dad...that was..." He swallowed. "Did Dhahabu really become the greatest king ever?" He paused, then smirked. "Other than you, that is."

The gigantic lion chuckled deeply, a rueful and embarrassed expression on his muzzle. "Don't exaggerate, son...and there were many great kings in these lands, and others as well...but certainly Dhahabu became one of the greatest. He always kept the teachings of his father in his heart, and over the years the respect and love for him spread across the lands. The kings who followed him paid great homage to his memory, and were forever in awe of his reign. Despite his uncertainty he proved time and again his worthiness for the throne...from the most momentous of his decisions and actions to the most commonplace."

Simba digested this, then sighed contentedly as he rested his head on his forepaws. "That was a great story, Dad! It had everything...excitement, adventure, sadness, laughter, love..." Here he blushed, and Mufasa laughed aloud at his expression. "I'm glad you told me...and didn't hold anything back."

The Lion King smiled appreciatively. "You're quite welcome, son. I knew you were old enough to hear it...and cubs must learn about the adult world and what it contains at some point anyway."

Tilting his head, the cub considered this, then grinned eagerly. "I hope you tell me another story like that soon, Dad! But...if you do...can you make it not so...unfinished?"

Mufasa blinked. "Son, the Circle of Life never ceases its motions...there is never a true ending, one tale leads into another, all are as interconnected as the rushes the weaverbirds plait together to form their nests."

"Yeah...I guess so. But...still there was some stuff you didn't tell me that I'd like to know." Simba's expression was one of intense curiosity.

"Oh really?" Mufasa smirked. "Well, fire away!"

The cub blushed a little, then ventured, "Well...what happened with Njaa and Asumini? Did they stay together?"

The golden monarch murmured in understanding and winked. "Ah yes...those two. Indeed they did, son. As I said in my tale, they did have to spend much time apart, as Njaa traveled elsewhere to form a new pride with his brother and nephew, and could only visit twice a year. But prior to that, he and Asumini became as close as a lion and lioness could be...their emotions and loyalty to one another, despite the distance, could fill the hours of many other nights with the words of tales.

"Suffice it to say that they too shared themselves with one another, and produced a cub, a shy little girl named Winda who, though somewhat naive and complacent, had a strong mind. Dhahabu lavished great care on her, and it came as no surprise when she was betrothed to Mohatu at a young age, much as you and Nala were."

He snickered as Simba rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Mohatu...he was true to his word, and never faltered in his determination to repay the animals for their respect. He grew to become a wise and introspective adolescent, and then adult, who seemed to have a rapport with the herds like no other. He even feared to hunt them, or cause any harm whatsoever. His life, too, is much too complex for me to tell you at this time...but his father was right. Mohatu's star is the brightest of them all...you can see it there, shining in the east, especially during the rainy season."

Simba's jaw dropped at this development, and then he beamed. "That's perfect, Dad! How the two families joined that way...and Mohatu...you have to tell me about him sometime." He stared unblinkingly at the majestic star glittering like a faceted diamond high above the peaks of the eastern mountains. But then a frown crossed his face. "But what about Ukware? He got away, you know...what happened to him?"

A dark look formed on Mufasa's muzzle, as if his brows were a building thunderstorm. "That one...he did indeed join the hyena clans, and no one was ever the wiser, because he laid low and bided his time. He took a mate, Jazua, and they had a daughter...she learned all the tales of hyena glory Ukware related, and believed firmly in the greatness of her species, how they were destined to overturn the tyranny of the lions." A soft growl escaped him. "She in turn passed this on to her son...a hyena named Jalkort. Most hyenas know their place, and are satisfied...they are a proud species, but worthy of great respect.

"Yet for Jalkort this was not enough. He was neither bloodthirsty nor devious, but he made the mistake of entering the circle of one Gur'mekh, drawn by the visions of a great future for hyenas and a change in the status quo, just as his grandfather Ukware had always espoused. And thus it was that he became instrumental in, not the uplift, but the downfall of his clan...he aided in the death of Avina, your great-aunt and grandmother, and this led to a chain reaction that ultimately caused the death of both Jalkort and your great-uncle Shaka, and the banishment of the clan from Kiburi...the Pride Lands. Yet the curse of Ukware did not even end there...Jalkort's three offspring still hold revenge in their hearts, and may yet find a way to achieve it." He paused and regarded Simba thoughtfully. "You met them earlier today, in the elephant graveyard...Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed."

The young cub gulped and crouched low, in remembrance of the chastisement he had received for that foray, but also in fear as he realized anew the danger he had been in. The descendants of Ukware...out for leonine blood...in the same locale where Sulubu had met his end. But that thought struck a chord and made him remember another point. "I see...I had no idea. I'm so sorry, Dad. I'm also sorry I couldn't have met Sulubu, or honored him...he was so brave!"

Mufasa's mood lightened slightly, and he ran a massive paw over his son's ears. "That may well be, but he learned as you did, but too late, to obey his father. Yet, if you wish to honor him, that can be arranged, son...his grave remains to this day, and I visit it every year on the anniversary of his death, as did my father before me, as did Mohatu and Dhahabu before him."

Simba gasped and leaped forward to embrace his father's leg tightly. "Really? Awww Dad, that'd be awesome!" His grin stretched from ear to ear.

A lump formed in the great king's throat as he embraced his son tenderly. "It is a tradition, one which I think you will adopt rather quickly. But there is also another way you can honor Sulubu...his memory lives on in his descendants, or rather Dhahabu's. Your uncle Scar has his coloration...and his son Kiruu is the spitting image of Sulubu. Remember, and be mindful." Mufasa's tone hardened slightly.

Simba ducked down even lower as he pulled back from the embrace, hearing the reproach in his father's tone...obviously Mufasa knew of his treatment of Kiruu, rubbing in his cousin's face the fact that he was the future king, and did not approve. Remembering the gallant brother of Dhahabu, the young prince resolved to mend his ways, and treat Kiruu with the respect he deserved. Perhaps they could even become friends...although he feared it might be too late.

Seeing his son's distress, Mufasa relented and embraced him again, kissing the top of his head and ruffling his mane tuft playfully. "So, was that all you wished to know, son?"

Shaking himself, the cub forced his thoughts from their berating of his own actions and cleared his throat. "Uh...no. There's two more things left unexplained. What happened to Tembo and Cheko, and their families, if they had them?"

A broad smile bloomed on Mufasa's muzzle. "Oh, Tembo served Dhahabu loyally, as I said, and Mohatu as well, although not as majordomo...he took time away for his own family late in Dhahabu's life, and then a few months after Dhahabu stepped down and relinquished the throne to Mohatu, he died quietly in his sleep, and after that Tembo...withdrew from pride affairs. There was a great funeral...Njaa, though old, made a special journey to attend, as did Taraji and Jahili, and Makani, who had left Kiburi on a sojourn of the self, philosophical and perceptive."

For several minutes he lay silent, contemplative, as Simba watched with a downcast expression...the cub did not like to hear of death, particularly of a lion so much like himself. "But I digress...anyway, although Tembo stepped down, he lived for many many years afterwards, for elephants are a species of greatness, even in their longevity, and live through many lion generations. I am sorry to say he died the day before you were born, so you cannot meet him...but his daughter is the matriarch of the elephant herd."

Simba managed a small smile. "So Tembo met his 'horrible fate' after all..." Secretly wiping a tear away, the cub flicked an ear with slight impatience. "But what about Cheko?"

His father rolled his eyes and looked away. "Although he served faithfully, I am sorry to say his family fell in distinction, rather than grew as Tembo's did. None of his descendants have amounted to more than simple guards within the meerkat colony...and I have heard that one even adopted a carefree, selfish lifestyle utterly without responsibilities, and was outcast...supposedly he disappeared into the Majonzi and is now in the jungle, in the company of a warthog, of all creatures..."

Simba burst into laughter at this thought, collapsing in the grass. Between gasping breaths, he stuttered, "Boy...am I glad...I won't ever...meet him!" Mufasa joined him in his gaiety, and for a while neither could speak, their lungs aching as they lay embracing in the cool night air.

After some struggle, Simba finally regained his composure enough to ask his final question. "One more thing, Dad...what happened to Taraji and Jahili? You said they came to Dhahabu's funeral...?"

Mufasa sighed and rolled back onto his stomach, lowering his face to Simba's muzzle. "Very well, I will tell you this and then you must sleep. Fair enough?" When his son nodded reluctantly, the Lion King let his voice drift as he recalled the past one final time.

"Taraji and Jahili...they did indeed join Njaa and Tauni in their search for new lands, and found them...the pride they established, the Nje, still exists to this day. Before their departure from Kiburi, Makedde had determined that Taraji was with cub, and she gave birth to a daughter not long after they reached their new home. They named her Sahau, because they wished to forget all the pain and anguish they had suffered.

"When she grew older, she became the queen of Nje, and ruled with fairness and in peace. But sadly, her son Shetani became bitter and jealous of Kiburi, and misinterpreted the tale of Dhahabu, thinking his family had been exiled rather than given a blessing. And it did not help matters when the lands experienced a drought and famine that left them dry and destitute. Eventually Shetani's daughter, even more in despair than her father, came here for help, although it galled her to depend on others.

"The Nje Lands were beyond hope, however, so I invited her and her pride to share our lands, where the jungle borders the Majonzi, and she accepted, but she still remains somewhat bitter, as can be expected. Perhaps someday she will soften...at heart she truly is a good and sweet lioness, like her great-grandmother, although she also bears Taraji's temper. And perhaps you will meet her."

Mufasa gazed down at Simba, whose attention remained raptly fixed on him, eyes bright in the darkness, but reflecting the sparkling glow of the stars. "Her name is Ushandra...but you would know her as...Zira."

THE END

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(A/N: And that's a wrap! The references to Ukware's descendants are another way I connected my fic to "Chronicles of the Pride Lands", just as Mohatu's story is meant to link him to "The Brightest Star". Cheko's connection is of course obvious, as is Taraji and Jahili's. For anyone who is wondering, the son of Scar who appears out of nowhere, as well as the original name for Zira, both came from friends of mine with whom I was involved for a long time in a bulletin board Lion King RP. Hope you enjoyed the tale. R/R!)


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